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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27511585">Cardiac Arrest</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/melanoms/pseuds/rosewrites'>rosewrites (melanoms)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Banter, Christine Palmer Deserves Better, Clueless Reader, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jealous Stephen Strange, Medical Procedures, Oblivious Stephen Strange, Patient death, Pining, Playboy Tony Stark, Pre-Doctor Strange (2016), Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Wedding Planning, some stephen strange/christine palmer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-08 04:08:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>94,091</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27511585</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/melanoms/pseuds/rosewrites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Doctor Stephen Strange never expected much of anyone except, well, himself. But he certainly had the lowest of expectations from the new head of pediatric surgery who wears flower crowns and Hello Kitty bandaids. </p><p>Yet, when you propose an intriguing offer, Stephen can't help but admit that it would look good for his record to save a few kids. Good thing he found out you were in a long-term relationship before he invested too much time into you. Otherwise, he might have become attached...He just might have.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Stephen Strange/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>375</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>306</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Peonies Keep the Hospital Gremlins Away</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>*Adjusts shirt collar* this is not at all based on my life. To all my friends who had to watch me plan my wedding, I'm so sorry.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>With an MRI scan in hand, you strutted into Stephen’s office. He set aside his case file and shook his head. </p><p>“I’m not taking another one of your charity cases.”</p><p>“Just tell me if it’s possible.”</p><p>You shoved the scan in front of his face. </p><p>Furrowing his brow, Stephen relieved the scan from your hand. You didn’t call him a charity case. You didn’t play to his competitive side. You didn’t even attempt to humanize this kid.</p><p>After examining the scan, Stephen slowly raised his gaze to you.</p><p>“Yes,” he confirmed. “If they’re good.”</p><p>“If they’re you?”</p><p>Stephen passed the scan back to you and drew in a breath. You snatched it from his hand and glared at him.</p><p>“He’s ten-years-old. Completely fascinated by the inner working of computers. Wants to be an engineer and his current favorite color to paint his nails in periwinkle.”</p><p>“One condition.”</p><p>“Doctor Strange.” You rolled your eyes. “I don’t have time to entertain your—”</p><p>“What’s bothering you?”</p><p>You crossed your arms, twisting the gold chain around your neck between your thumb and index finger. Stephen could almost see the three-carat (at least, that was his best estimation) diamond ring that was nestled underneath the collar of your scrubs.</p><p>“I have to change my seating chart. Again. He keeps inviting more people.”</p><p>“Why doesn’t he change it himself?”</p><p>“Because he just can’t, okay? He’s busy and I—”</p><p>“You’re a pediatric surgeon. How could he be busier than you?”</p><p>“Will you just help me take out this kid’s tumor?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>You stomped to the door and threw it open. But before you left, you spun around and cleared your throat.</p><p>“You’re still coming, right?”</p><p>“If space is short…”</p><p>“Please. I need you two there or I might not survive this.”</p><p>“Exactly what every bride should say about her wedding day.”</p><p>But as you bore your eyes into him, Stephen pursed his lips and nodded.</p><p>“We, we’ll be there.”</p><p>“I’ll get your schedule from Billy and book an OR.”</p><p>When the door closed, Stephen rested his elbows on his desk. He ran his hands over his hair and sucked in a breath.</p><p>Four years.</p><p>It was just over four years ago that you, quite similarly to today, stormed into his office with a few scans in hand. Flipping through possible case files, Stephen didn’t even look at you.</p><p>“Billy, I don’t need—”</p><p>“Doctor Stephen Strange.” </p><p>That...that certainly was not Billy.</p><p>Stephen cautiously looked up as you extended your hand. His eyes drifted from your palm to the flower crown upon your head. The pale pink peony blossoms contrasted against your navy scrubs.</p><p>“I don’t have time for whatever this is,” he grumbled before looking back at his unstimulating case files.</p><p>As you returned your untouched hand to your scans, Billy rushed through the door and furiously shook his head.</p><p>“I’m so sorry. She just—”</p><p>“According to my head nurse, you’re the best neurosurgeon in this hospital."</p><p>“More like the country,” Billy corrected. “Now, please leave Doctor Strange to—”</p><p>“So I’m sure clipping an aneurysm is simplistic. Yes?”</p><p>Stephen started scribbling notes on one of his files.</p><p>“If you need someone to clip an aneurysm, even Doctor West should be competent enough to complete the job.”</p><p>“For a six-year-old?”</p><p>He stopped writing. “Pediatric cerebral aneurysms are…”</p><p>“Rare.” Billy stared at you. “Rarer than rare.”</p><p>“Posterior circulation. Three centimeters.” You handed Stephen the scan. “Could rupture any moment. That is...unless you step in.”</p><p>Stephen leaned his head back and scrutinized your face.</p><p>“You’re the new head of pediatric surgery.”</p><p>“Correct.”</p><p>“And the flowers are for…”</p><p>“Warding off hospital gremlins. Obviously.”</p><p>“West should be good enough for you.”</p><p>He gestured to the door. But even as Billy tugged at your arm, you smiled and shook your head. </p><p>“Oh, you’re one of those neuro guys.”</p><p>“Billy, get her out of here.”</p><p>“You only take on the flashy cases. For the sake of your reputation. The only success rate you care about concerns the patients who enter your OR. But if they judged by the number of case files that graced your desk, they would see you can only get it up for what? One in every thousand cases?”</p><p>“Because anyone else could do the other nine-hundred and ninety-nine. But only I can do—”</p><p>“I’m sorry you’re limp today, Doctor Strange. I’m sure Doctor West will have something more impressive for me.”</p><p> </p><p>Two hours later, you leaned over the sink of OR 4 to scrub in for surgery. You grinned at Nicodemus West with a smile that could melt hearts.</p><p>“She loves origami. Determined to make a thousand paper cranes to get that wish. She finished Crane 566 before they prepped her.”</p><p>“You came here from Hopkins?”</p><p>“Correct.”</p><p>But before he could ask a follow-up question, Stephen stormed into the prep area and shoved West aside.</p><p>“Strange! I’m going to have to—”</p><p>“Leave. I’m taking care of this.”</p><p>“Doctor Strange.” You nodded to him before receiving your gown and gloves.</p><p>He grumbled your name, having only learned it after Billy looked you up in the hospital directory. With your mask on, you entered the OR.</p><p>It wasn’t long until Stephen was standing next to you.</p><p>You spent years refining your collection process. </p><p>No matter what hospital you were at, you immediately set out to develop relationships with the best of each specialty. Because if anyone deserved the healing touch from the hospital’s top surgeons, it was certainly your patients.</p><p>So far, Stephen Strange was your quickest recruit yet. It wasn’t that manipulative if you were saving children’s lives...was it?</p><p>When his portion of the procedure was complete, Stephen nodded to you.</p><p>“You can handle the rest of this on your own?”</p><p>“Thank you, Doctor Strange.”</p><p>He paused, trying to decipher your expression from behind your mask. Your eyes. There was something about them. But he couldn’t quite...</p><p>“Stephen,” he corrected.</p><p>“I can take it from here.”</p><p>Stephen headed to the door. But before he exited the OR, he looked over his shoulder with a smirk.</p><p>“Do the flowers really keep out the hospital gremlins?”</p><p>“No, Doctor Strange...they’re just flowers. Hospital gremlins don’t exist.”</p><p>Chuckling to himself, he strode through the automatic doors and shook his head.</p><p>Maybe you weren’t so soft after all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Competent Opinion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>One week after your first surgery together, Stephen poked his head through his office door.</p><p>“Billy, I need…” </p><p>He furrowed his brow as Billy scrambled to remove a giant muffin from his face. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” the assistant mumbled through a half-chewed bite. He swallowed. “What can I get for you?”</p><p>“I thought you were going gluten-free?”</p><p>“It is gluten-free! There’s one for you too.”</p><p>Billy pointed to the additional massive muffin on his desk.</p><p>“Where did you get those?”</p><p>“Peds.”</p><p>“What did she want?” Stephen rolled his eyes. “I’m surprised she didn’t just barge in here herself.”</p><p>“No, she said she didn’t want to bother you because you were, and these were her words not mine, you know I would never—”</p><p>Raising his eyebrows, Stephen tapped the face of his watch.</p><p>“Right,” Billy stammered. “She said you were probably too busy shoving a stick up your...you know...to want to...”</p><p>“Last time I do anything for—”</p><p>“But she wanted you to have this!”</p><p>“I’m not eating that.”</p><p>“Then you’re missing out.”</p><p>Fidgeting with the band of his wristwatch, Stephen strutted out of Billy’s office. He just wanted a damn cup of coffee. But unwilling to pry Billy from your baked goods—he was in a charitable mood today—he decided to get some fresh air himself.</p><p>When Stephen arrived at the coffee cart in the main hospital lobby, his mouth hung open to see the head of cardiothoracic surgery waiting in line with the head of trauma.</p><p>Each with equally massive muffins in hand.</p><p>Or were they bigger?</p><p>He couldn’t tell if they were bigger.</p><p>Entire appetite and desire for caffeine extinguished, Stephen spun around and darted back to his office. </p><p>And, like clockwork, your baked goods appeared on Billy’s desk on the first Tuesday of the month. After the muffins came cinnamon rolls. Then pumpkin bread. And thus far, Billy’s favorite was—</p><p>“A cherry danish. You made a gluten-free cherry danish?”</p><p>Stephen threw open the door to his office, finally getting to the hospital early enough to catch your drop-off.</p><p>“Now this is just ridiculous. Who has the time and energy to make all of these?”</p><p>“Gremlin got you down, Doctor Strange?” </p><p>You raised your eyebrows and plucked a maroon peony from the assortment adorning your head. Stephen vacantly stared at you as you tucked it behind his ear.</p><p>“Thank you for your assist with the aneurysm.”</p><p>“Assist?” He yanked the flower from his head and scowled at you. “You couldn’t have completed that procedure without me.”</p><p>“Correct.”</p><p>“You can ask West for any neuro consults.” He slammed his door shut before throwing it open a second later. “And peonies aren’t even in season.”</p><p>You redirected your attention to Billy upon the echo of Stephen’s lock latching shut.</p><p>“They only work for gremlins. Not assholes.” You shrugged before heading back to the pediatric floor.</p><p> </p><p>Three weeks later, you sat in the hospital cafeteria across from Nick West. He scratched his head as he studied your patient file.</p><p>“Prognosis is not good,” he muttered.</p><p>“Not if you’re operating."</p><p>You and Nick raised your gazes upward to see Stephen peering over his shoulder.</p><p>“How long have you…” Nick looked from Stephen to you. “How long has he been there?”</p><p>You shrugged, taking off your lab coat and tossing on the back of your chair. You leaned back and propped your feet on the empty seat next to you.</p><p>Nick’s eyes widened before immediately redirecting his attention to your file. You glanced between him and Stephen’s deadpan expression.</p><p>“What? I didn’t say anything.”</p><p>You plucked your water bottle from the table and took a sip.</p><p>“You’ve got, um…” Nick pointed to your chest and looked away.</p><p>Stephen raised his eyebrows. “Your patients are a little young to be copping a feel, aren’t they?”</p><p>Furrowing your brow, you glanced down to see the tiny handprint in bright yellow paint just above your left breast. </p><p>“Flarg. I forgot to change.”</p><p>You sprang to your feet and threw your coat back on. Shimmying your shoulders to adjust the fit, you beamed at them. </p><p>“I just needed a second opinion. Thank you, Nick.”</p><p>You swiped the file and your water bottle from the table and started bouncing out of the cafeteria, bringing the gazes of both surgeons with your backside.</p><p>“Hold on.” Stephen cut you off at the exit, shoes squeaking over the linoleum. “You’re not really doing this by yourself?”</p><p>“What are you even doing in the cafeteria? I thought Billy brought your food to you.”</p><p>“West won’t be able to remove that tumor. Not without stabbing another part of his brain. You know, the important part that he needs to function.”</p><p>“I didn’t ask for your opinion, Doctor Strange.”</p><p>You shoved yourself past him. But he followed you down the hallway as you made your way to the elevator.</p><p>“That doesn’t change the fact that you need it,” Stephen barked.</p><p>“You love to hear yourself talk.”</p><p>You punched the up button and crossed your arms. Next to you, Stephen glared at you and shook his head.</p><p>“Is this what you do? Play to egos and rivalries to get what you want?”</p><p>“Rivalries? How old are you? Twelve? Should I be looking at your head?”</p><p>When the doors opened, you strode into the elevator and pressed the button for your floor. Stephen smacked the button for his; which, thankfully, was before yours.</p><p>“You need me to do this. And you know it.”</p><p>“Doctor Strange, I don’t need you for anything if it’s in the interest of stroking your own ego. This kid has had multiple seizures a day for months now. Months. He is exhausted. His parents are exhausted. And I, for one, am exhausted of watching them suffer. So either you’re offering your help to save a life or you’re useless to me.”</p><p>Clenching his jaw, Stephen swallowed as he stared at you. Eyes locked with his, you gestured to the (now) open elevator door.</p><p>“I believe this is your floor.”</p><p>He stomped out without another word.</p><p> </p><p>In the OR, you leaned over to whisper into the ear of the unconscious boy. </p><p>“You are going to be okay. You’re going to make it out of this and life will be so much kinder to you when—”</p><p>You snapped your gaze upward when Stephen entered the room.</p><p>“This ‘save the day at the last second’ act is already overdone,” you deadpanned.</p><p>“I’m not here to save the day. I’m here to help the kid.”</p><p>He took a step forward.</p><p>“Do you want my help or not?”</p><p>“Yes, Doctor Strange. He does.”</p><p>With the case file already memorized, he took his place next to you and began the operation. Against Stephen’s assumption, your work went as smoothly as it possibly could have. You perfectly anticipated his needs and predicted his every move.</p><p>He thought the first time was sheer dumb luck.</p><p>Yet you were equally surprised when he stayed with you throughout the entire procedure. Even after the tumor was flawlessly removed, you closed with an attention to detail that he hadn’t seen in quite some time.</p><p>Aside from himself, of course.</p><p>When the boy was safe from the cruelties of the past few months, you exited the OR and removed your gown, gloves, and mask. </p><p>“I don’t want a rivalry,” Stephen said behind you.</p><p>You turned around and raised your eyebrows. “You did excellent work. Not that I need to tell you. Thank you for lending your expertise.”</p><p>“I don’t want,” he sighed. “Can we start over?”</p><p>He extended his hand.</p><p>“I’m Stephen. Your neuro consult.”</p><p>Eyes flickering from his face to his hand, you drew in a breath and cautiously extended yours in return. After providing your name, you gave his hand a firm shake.</p><p>“Peds.”</p><p>“Those kids, they, um, they’re lucky to have you.”</p><p>“And now, they are lucky to have you.”</p><p>Withdrawing your hand, you spun around and exited the prep area. Stephen’s mind couldn’t help but ricochet back to why he even got into medicine in the first place.</p><p>He wanted to save lives.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Palmer-Strange Technique</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*squee* I'm enjoying this so much.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>During your first six months at Metro-General, your biggest cases were a heart transplant for an eight-year-old who loves Bob Ross and (even after West recommended amputation) saving the leg of a teenager in a car crash. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Stephen took the elevator to the first floor one morning, he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. But his eyes widened when the doors opened to reveal...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, a little keychain of a bus. Right up his nose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Waiting for the elevator with an osteopathic surgeon, you embellished the recounting of your morning in the ER with ample hand gestures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And not even a regular bus. One of the double-decker ones! Kid’s got skill.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You smiled at Stephen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor Strange.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave you a nod and exited the elevator, glancing over his shoulder to observe your hand gestures until the doors closed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few days ago, you showed him scans for a ten-year-old’s spinal cord. Confirming it was tethered, you left a peony on his desk in thanks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But before you could leave his office, Stephen yanked on your wrist to spin you around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know that I developed a laminectomy procedure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You furrowed your brow. When your eyes drifted to his hand around your wrist, Stephen cleared his throat and retracted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With, um, with Christine Palmer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. I think I read something about it in a journal. That was just last year wasn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me show you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you had a new DBS procedure you were showing off this week. The one Mayo Clinic is coming to record?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, but that doesn’t mean I can’t show off the laminectomy too. Even if it’s to a smaller audience.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor Strange.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on. The recovery time is at least twenty percent faster and she can get back to…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She wants to be an architect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Designing buildings or whatever the kids do these days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tilting your head to the side, you narrowed your eyes at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. Teach me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen never anticipated being the teaching type. He assumed the documentation of his work would sustain the field for generations to come. Then again, he never had such a thought-provoking student.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The procedure was a success, as expected. And that evening, Stephen caught you standing in front of the hospital and staring at your phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re still here?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You flinched upon hearing the sound of his voice. Looking over your shoulder, you nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes. Cab should be here any moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me drive you home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice try. But no. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen drew in a breath. But as the taxi pulled up to the sidewalk, he pursed his lips and nodded to you. As you threw the door open, he wanted to ask…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you be…”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There on Friday?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Okay overpaying? That guy’s running the meter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Doctor Strange.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Friday.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was 10:34 on Friday morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen glanced around the operating room, filled to maximum capacity. His gaze drifted to the observation deck. The usual crowd. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Billy pulled up the playlist. “Ready to begin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Stephen snapped his gaze to the back of the patient’s head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...I still feel weird that I’m awake for this,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to be fine,” Billy reassured. “Doctor Strange is the best there is. You’re in the most skilled hands possible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Stephen felt air return to his lungs when he saw you squeezing your way through the observation deck. The crowd happily made way for you and your crown of white and blush peonies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Nick offered you his seat, Stephen’s jaw ticked underneath his mask. Shaking his head, he returned his focus to the task at hand. The goddamn Mayo Clinic was here, after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While the procedure was a complete success—Billy only got two release dates wrong—Stephen couldn’t help but feel a knot in his stomach seeing you laughing with Nick by the time he closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, your attention was quickly diverted when your pager started beeping. Shaking your head, you rushed out of the observation deck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And without even glancing at Stephen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right, dying kids. He couldn’t linger when your patients were in cardiac arrest and the Mayo Clinic was here and Billy said that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Night Moves</span>
  </em>
  <span> by Bob Seger was released in—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“1976,” Stephen corrected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I said. 1976.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Night Moves</span>
  </em>
  <span> was recorded and released in 1977.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just said ‘76.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“'77.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cocking an eyebrow, Billy pulled up Wikipedia. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right. 1977.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three release dates. He got three release dates wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Other than the laminectomy, you hadn’t had a neuro case in months.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And while it was supposedly wonderful that the pediatric floor wasn’t filled with kids with brain tumors, Stephen had to admit that your passings through the hospital were fewer than he’d like.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If only that kid rammed the keychain so far up his nose it got lodged in his brain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not really...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it seemed to be the closest he’d get to see—not see, help—help you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, Stephen didn’t need to pretend that he wasn’t secretly hoping you’d get a kid who needed a brain shunt when he returned to his office. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sitting at his desk, he took one sip of his coffee before dumping it in the trash. He was getting his own coffee more and more these days...and regretting it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the bitterness in his mouth was quickly smoothed over by a smirk when he read his latest email.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After months of this back and forth, Stephen finally received the perfect opportunity to steal your attention for an evening. He ignored his better sensibilities and rushed to the pediatric floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wide eyes followed him as he poked his head through various patient rooms. The nurses...he couldn’t let them know he was looking for you. He was just...checking on your patient.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your mutual patient.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Stephen peered into her room, she looked up and beamed at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom! It’s Doctor Strange!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the parental unit jolted awake, Stephen jerked his head back. He was blessed with never having to meet your patients. So how could they…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes drifted to the wall across from the hospital bed. Taped above the pain chart was a photo of the girl—Lisa, right...that was her name in your handwriting underneath her picture—and a list of qualities written in blue glitter glue.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Chief architect. Super suit flight and X-ray vision powers uploading.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Below that was a picture of you with giant lime green glasses and a mustache on a stick over your upper lip. Next to your lively display was his starkly dreary hospital profile photo. Both pictures were diligently labeled under ‘Your Superhero Care Team’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we might have to add summoning powers to the list.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen spun around at the sound of your voice. Clipboard in hand and pressed to your chest, you smiled at Lisa with a massive white peony tucked behind your ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you can get Doctor Strange to the pediatric floor, you must have superpowers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it true you used a special procedure on me?” she asked Stephen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, uh…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely!” You beamed at her. “He said that with this special procedure, you should believe in yourself more than ever. Because you can do anything you put your mind to. Isn’t that right, Doctor Strange?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, yes.” He cleared his throat and looked down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom get a good nap in?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded as you raised your eyebrows. Smiling at them, you flashed Lisa your hand and wiggled your shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll get to join the club soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen furrowed his brow at the Hello Kitty band-aid across the base of your palm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then everyone will know that I’m a superhero?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be sure to contact Stark Industries.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You winked at her before leading Stephen into the hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is everything okay? You didn’t notice anything wrong with her post-op—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, she’s recovering remarkably well. From the paperwork I’ve seen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, I’m hoping to discharge her tomorrow. What are you doing here then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want them to see themselves as heroes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want them to see themselves for what they actually are. They may not have Iron Man suits. But they are superheroes. Defying the odds, braving the unthinkable, and saving lives. Sounds pretty heroic to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the Hello Kitty club?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You raised the edge of your bandaid to reveal a long-healed scar. But before Stephen’s eyes could linger for long, you shoved the bandaid back in place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What can I do for you, Doctor Strange?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He huffed an exhale and looked into your eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m speaking at a Neurological Society dinner next week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Congratulations. You’re the headliner, I assume? Or the main event of sorts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never attended a function like that before. So I’m afraid I won’t be much help to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, I wanted to know if…” He bit his lip and glanced to the side. “Would you like to go with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I probably won’t be able to. We’ve been staying in a lot lately and I think—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I’m one of those people. I know. Don’t give me a hard time for it. But after five years of living together, we just kind of blobbed together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You and your…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boyfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen drew in a breath. “Got it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you know who you should ask?” You pointed to him as he raised his eyebrows. “Christine Palmer. She had some plans fall through and...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At his bewildered expression, you pressed your palm to your forehead and leaned back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no. You two obviously know each other. I forgot. Scratch that. Unless you want to ask her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think Christine would want to go with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To a professional speaking engagement? It could be interesting. I’m sorry. I don’t actually know her that well. We were just talking this morning in the ER when I yanked a bus out of a kid’s nose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like quite the magic trick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was determined.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen opened his mouth to reply. But before the words could escape his lips, your pager started buzzing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gotta go. Superheroes to assist.” You handed him the peony from behind your ear. “Thanks for thinking of me. I know it will go well for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You dashed down the hallway in a blur.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. World's Okayest Employee</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At the end of the Neurological Society dinner, Stephen drove Christine to her apartment. The drive was silent, aside from occasional throat clearing and seat shifting. </p><p>But when he stopped in front of her apartment complex, Christine crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him.</p><p>“Why did you ask me to go with you tonight?”</p><p>Before he could utter a single word, she held up a finger and leaned forward.</p><p>“We haven’t spoken in months. Did you need a plus one that badly? They didn’t even take photos. At least, not many.”</p><p>“It’s a shame. You look nice tonight.”</p><p>With wide eyes, Christine blinked a few times before tilting her head to the side. </p><p>“Stephen…”</p><p>“Christine…”</p><p>“Is this a date?”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“You can’t be serious.” She looked up and laughed. “This, that was not a date.”</p><p>“What? I picked you up, we ate a catered meal, I said you look nice...”</p><p>“Stephen.”</p><p>“Was I supposed to get you flowers?”</p><p>“I spent eighty percent of the evening watching you talk at people fifteen feet away from me.”</p><p>Pursing his lips, Stephen looked upward and nodded his head.</p><p>“Right…”</p><p>“Not a date.”</p><p>As Christine opened the passenger door, Stephen rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat. She stepped onto the sidewalk before peering through the doorway.</p><p>“Do better next time.”</p><p>“Next time?”</p><p>“Yes, Stephen. Next time.”</p><p>She winked at him before entering her apartment complex, leaving Stephen with his thoughts.</p><p>That certainly explained your response to his query last week. He couldn’t help but feel relieved the rest of the drive home.</p><p> </p><p>A little over two months later, the first Tuesday of November in fact, you sat on Billy’s desk with a pumpkin cream cheese muffin in hand. With one leg swinging over the edge, you picked at the muffin wrapper and shook your head.</p><p>“They’re terrifying.”</p><p>“I wonder what they think about gluten-free…”</p><p>“Oh, I’m sure they have an opinion, Billy. The whole lot of them are too healthy for pumpkin muffins.” You set the muffin down and wrinkled your nose. “I’m a surgeon. And even I find it disturbing.”</p><p>Stephen threw the door open and poked his head through.</p><p>“Will you two keep it down?”</p><p>“I thought you said he wasn’t in yet?” You cocked an eyebrow.</p><p>Billy mumbled through a mouthful of muffin, “He wasn’t.”</p><p>“Well, what’s that?”</p><p>“I’m standing right here,” Stephen deadpanned. “And everyone knows Diagnostic Imaging is watching their sugar intake.”</p><p>He slammed the door closed.</p><p>“What’s he doing here so early?” you whispered.</p><p>Billy shrugged just as your pager beeped, calling you to the pit.</p><p>You rushed into the ER to examine a seventeen-year-old with suspected and quickly confirmed appendicitis. But since the kid was only two weeks from his eighteenth birthday, you passed him off to general surgery with your stamp of approval.</p><p>At the nurses’ station, you completed paperwork alongside Christine.</p><p>You were spending more time in the ER these days. She was admittedly one of your favorite people at Metro-General so far. But surviving Halloween together sealed your newfound friendship with the trauma surgeon.</p><p>“Things are going well for you guys?” you asked with a smile.</p><p>“I’m just as surprised as you are.”</p><p>Christine handed off her paperwork to a resident. Leaning over the counter, she rested her hand on her hip and smirked.</p><p>“A few of us are getting drinks later. I think I already know the answer, but…”</p><p>“I can’t. But thanks for inviting me.”</p><p>“When am I going to get more details about this mystery boyfriend of yours?”</p><p>“He’s not a mystery. He’s just busy.”</p><p>“Well, if he’s so busy, maybe you can get drinks with us then?”</p><p>“Anything else you need me to sign?”</p><p>You tucked your pen in the front pocket of your scrubs.</p><p>“Not a signature, but I could use your advice.”</p><p>“Sure, anything.”</p><p>“Well…” Christine clasped her hands together and leaned over the counter. “Stephen’s birthday is in a few weeks and I don’t know if I should get him something...This thing is new but we’ve known each other for years, you know?”</p><p>“When’s his birthday?”</p><p>“The eighteenth.”</p><p>“Well, I’d say start by contacting the Vatican. Lobby to change the timeline to Before Stephen Strange and After Stephen Strange. The latter coincidentally abbreviates to—”</p><p>“I mean it,” she laughed. “He’s actually not that into birthdays. So that’s why I’m a little...unsure.”</p><p>“Or you could settle for projecting one of his surgeries on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Better paint over Michelangelo’s work first.”</p><p>She raised her eyebrows with a grin. Chuckling to yourself, you crossed your arms and leaned your back against the counter.</p><p>“I don’t know, Christine. What do you get a man who buys himself anything he wants and more?”</p><p>“That’s what I’m asking you. You seem like the type of person who picks out really good gifts.”</p><p>“Oh! Give yourself a brain tumor.”</p><p>Christine drew in a breath. “What would you get him?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t get him anything.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“The best thing he has in his life is you. So give him more of that. However you’d like.”</p><p>You shrugged and backed out of the ER with a grin.</p><p> </p><p>On November 18th, Stephen strode into his office and slumped in his chair. But he raised a brow at a small maroon box with a silken black sash in front of his keyboard. </p><p>Billy always tried to sneak in something. No matter how many years he told him not to.</p><p>After a hard swallow, Stephen disassembled the wrapping to reveal a white mug with a single phrase printed in bold.</p><p>
  <b>World’s Okayest Employee</b>
</p><p>He plucked a note from inside the mug, revealing a message written in handwriting he would always recognize. Credit to his photographic memory, of course.</p><p>
  <em> Happy Birthday, Doctor Strange </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Later that day, you scurried down to Diagnostic Imaging in hopes your scans were ready. The current guy manning the front desk—Ken? Ben? Zen? They all had the same stinkin’ haircuts—spun around in his chair and plopped a folder of scans in front of you.</p><p>“Thanks for the veggie platter.” He gave you a nod.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Vegan aioli was a nice touch.”</p><p>“I’m sorry. You must have me confused with someone else.”</p><p>He examined the labels on your scans. “Peds, right?”</p><p>You nodded.</p><p>“Might want to head to neuro for a CT.” He spun back around and started typing at his computer.</p><p>Unsure of what to make of his cryptic message, you took your scans and walked down the hallway. But eager for your results, you raised the first scan to the light. </p><p>Yup, this kid was getting his gallbladder removed. Maybe Christine would want to—</p><p>“Whoa!” Stephen yanked on your arm, catching your crown of maroon peonies before they collided with the linoleum. </p><p>Frozen under his grip, your eyes drifted to the trash can you narrowly avoided mating with.</p><p>“I’m surprised you didn’t let me run into that.”</p><p>“I am too,” he chuckled.</p><p>“Imaging says I need a head CT. Maybe they’re right.”</p><p>“What for?”</p><p>“Apparently I brought them a vegetable platter. But I have zero recollection of this.”</p><p>Stephen drew in a breath and nodded. “Ah, yes. Billy.”</p><p>“Billy?”</p><p>“With your scans being backed up, he wanted to help out.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“He does want danishes back next month though.”</p><p>“I, um, yeah, I can do that.”</p><p>“I’ll thank him for you.”</p><p>“Sure, sure.”</p><p>Already entranced by your scans again, you started marching down the hallway.</p><p>“Thank you,” Stephen called out.</p><p>“For what?”</p><p>He smirked. “Admitting you need a head CT.”</p><p>Rolling your eyes, you strutted away from him, the next set of scans already illuminated by the fluorescent ceiling lights. </p><p>“On your right,” Stephen said.</p><p>You inched to the left as Christine leaped out of your way.</p><p>“God, she’s worse than you,” she gasped.</p><p>“Yeah, don’t tell her that.”</p><p>You were long out of sight by the time she wrapped her arms around his waist. With a smile, Christine leaned in and pecked Stephen on the cheek. </p><p>“I have a surprise for you,” she hummed.</p><p>“Oh, really?”</p><p>“Yeah, today felt like as good a day as any.”</p><p>Untangling herself from Stephen, she swiped a finger down the bridge of his nose. As she followed in your footsteps, he nodded in the opposite direction.</p><p>“Aren’t you here to get your scans?”</p><p>“No, Stephen. I already got what I needed.”</p><p>Stephen furrowed his brow, watching her saunter down the hallway with your flower crown still in hand. </p><p> </p><p>The next day, Billy sat down at his desk to an entire platter of cherry danishes. He cocked an eyebrow at the neon pink index card with two words written on it.</p><p>
  <em> Thank you! </em>
</p><p>Billy opened the door to Stephen’s office.</p><p>“What’s this about?” </p><p>“Coffee would be great.”</p><p>He slid a mug across his desk.</p><p>“Um, sure. But what’s with the danishes? It’s Thursday.”</p><p>“Oh.” Stephen looked up from his computer. “Something about a head CT. Don’t mention it though. Bit of a sore spot.”</p><p>“Mmm, okay.”</p><p>“Enjoy your danishes.”</p><p>“I’ll get that coffee.”</p><p>Billy plucked the mug from Stephen’s desk. But furrowing his brow at the message, his gaze bolted back to Stephen.</p><p>“Is there an issue with my performance?”</p><p>“Aside from your taste in music?”</p><p>Billy pointed to the mug.</p><p>“Oh, no. If there was an issue, I’d just fire you.” Stephen waved a hand through the air and returned his attention to his inbox. “Don’t get any of the trash from the main lobby.”</p><p>“Um, of course.”</p><p>Billy closed the door. He took two steps through his portion of the office before dashing back to his (apparently) satisfied boss. </p><p>“I did good this year, didn’t I?”</p><p>“Yes, Billy. You did.”</p><p>“Happy belated birthday, Stephen.”</p><p>Chuckling to himself, Stephen closed his eyes and shook his head.</p><p>Maybe birthdays weren’t so terrible after all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Kangaroo Care</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Merp. I decided to take a new direction for her BF character than originally planned. Only change (if you've been reading as I update) is that her ring is bigger. And you'll find out why in this chapter. :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thanksgiving came and went without much notice from the hospital. </p><p>Stephen and Christine planned a small gathering. Actually, she planned; he agreed. But you opted to work and give as many of your people the holiday off.</p><p>On the first Monday of December, Stephen tapped his pen alongside his mug that, since its arrival in his life, permanently inhabited his desk.</p><p>He checked his watch. </p><p>He had an early surgery tomorrow and Christine was taking longer than usual. There was always someone’s kid or wife or brother or second cousin who needed a bandaid or something.</p><p>In the waiting area across from Billy’s desk, Stephen deflated on the black leather couch.</p><p>“You can head home,” he murmured.</p><p>“Really?” Billy looked up from his computer.</p><p>“Sure.” Stephen shrugged. “Are you anticipating a holiday-themed pastry tomorrow?”</p><p>“I doubt there will be anything.”</p><p>“But you love Christmas.” </p><p>“You didn’t hear?”</p><p>Stephen held his breath. “What happened? Is she okay?”</p><p>“Oh, there’s nothing wrong with her. It’s...Doctor Palmer didn’t tell you?”</p><p>“Billy, what happened?”</p><p>Stephen sat upright, sitting on the edge of the couch and leaning forward.</p><p>“Pregnant woman came into the ER. Thirty-two weeks. From what I heard it was…” Billy gulped. ”They had to send the custodial staff because of all the blood.”</p><p>“Did she make it?”</p><p>Billy shook his head. “But baby did.”</p><p>Without another word, Stephen bolted from the office. He hammered the button to the elevator. It was one of those days. One of those cases. And surely Christine was—</p><p>The doors opened and he leaped inside.</p><p>He rushed down the hallway, heart thumping. This thing with Christine was new. And he wasn’t sure if it was his responsibility to check in on her wellbeing like this. He, frankly, hadn't reached this stage of any relationship before.</p><p>But he peered into every room until he found…</p><p>You.</p><p>He was in the NICU. Why was he in the NICU?</p><p>Sitting in a rocking chair, you gently held the preemie to your bare sternum. Your lab coat was intentionally arranged and taped to cover the rest of your chest, optimizing for maximum skin-to-skin contact.</p><p>As Stephen cautiously entered the room, your eyes gently opened.</p><p>“Oh, I thought you were dad.” You closed your eyes again. “He’s buried in paperwork. It’s, well, it’s just awful.”</p><p>“Kangaroo care,” he observed.</p><p>“I’m not supposed to, but I just…” You drew in a breath. “Christine should be almost done in the pit.”</p><p>“Are, are you okay?”</p><p>“I’ll be fine, Doctor Strange. But your girlfriend deserves an exquisite foot massage tonight. It’s been...it’s been a day.”</p><p>And by the time you opened your eyes, it was just you and the unnamed baby once again.</p><p>Apparently, Christine was his girlfriend. </p><p>Right...</p><p> </p><p>The next day, you jolted awake at your desk to a nurse repeating your name. You squinted and glanced around the dark room to confirm that no…</p><p>You didn’t go home last night. </p><p>“No, no, no.” </p><p>You scrambled to grab your phone, confirming an onslaught of texts and missed phone calls. </p><p>Dialing your boyfriend, you threw the phone to your ear and nodded to the nurse.</p><p>“What can we push today?”</p><p>“I already cleared your schedule. I just came in to tell you to go home and get some rest.”</p><p>You placed your hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes. </p><p>“Thank you, Kayla. I appreciate you—Hey!” With a wave, you spun around and smiled. “I’m alive.”</p><p>“You usually call. I was getting worried. Was just about to head over there.”</p><p>“Just a complicated surgery. But I’m fine. Everyone’s fine. I’m on my way home now. I promise.”</p><p>“Okay, good. I’ll see you soon.”</p><p>“Yup, see you soon.”</p><p>You threw together your bag and dashed out of your office. </p><p>Heading out of the main entrance, you rushed to the parking lot to call a taxi. But you furrowed your brow to see Stephen exiting his car from his designated parking spot. </p><p>Walking toward the entrance, he gave you a nod.</p><p>“You’re here early,” you said. </p><p>“And you’re here late.”</p><p>“It’s…”</p><p>“4:07.” He checked his watch. “Please tell me you’re going home.”</p><p>“Yes, I’m…”</p><p>But your eyes drifted away from him as a taxi pulled up next to you. Your boyfriend stepped out with a grin across his face. </p><p>“Kayla already called me.”</p><p>You rushed over to pounce on him. He wrapped his arms around your waist and leaned back to lift your feet from the pavement. </p><p>When you were reunited with the ground and reality, you gave him a kiss and smiled. </p><p>“I’m sorry, I just lost track of time.”</p><p>“It’s okay. I’m here to rescue you.”</p><p>“Oh, this is Doctor Stephen Strange. A colleague and one of the country’s top neurosurgeons. At least according to the hospital donor website. Doctor Strange, this is my boyfriend Isaac.”</p><p>“Ah, so this is the neuro guy.”</p><p>Stephen could only stare at you for a moment. </p><p>Your boyfriend. </p><p>About the same height as him, although a slightly slimmer build. Dark blonde hair with a black leather jacket, worn jeans, and a shameless grin stamped across his face. </p><p>As Stephen extended his hand, Isaac paused and looked at you.</p><p>“He gonna bill me if I shake that hand?”</p><p>“Isaac, stop.”</p><p>“No.” Stephen smirked. “Because I don’t get out of bed for less than ten thousand dollars.”</p><p>“Whoa.” Isaac held up his hands. “Guessing that’s your ride then?”</p><p>He pointed to Stephen's car as he shook his hand.</p><p>“Doctor Strange has an early surgery. One that will surely enlighten generations of surgeons to come. Come on. Let’s get home.”</p><p>“Alright, but I think we should finally get a car this weekend.”</p><p>Isaac opened the door for you and you mouthed ‘sorry’ to Stephen as you waved him goodbye. </p><p>Studying the two of you in the back seat of the taxi, Stephen watched you nestle closer into your boyfriend’s chest. And he still couldn’t believe...</p><p>Your boyfriend was Isaac Bolton.</p><p>Lead singer and guitarist of Deception.</p><p>No, former lead singer and guitarist. They broke up right before you arrived at Metro-General.</p><p>Of course Stephen knew who he fucking was.</p><p> </p><p>Five hours later, you strode into Stephen’s office with your nose buried in a file. You outstretched a scan to him without looking up.</p><p>“Is that a shadow?”</p><p>He gave you a bewildered expression.</p><p>“Aren’t you supposed to be home?”</p><p>“No, I was supposed to sleep and I did that.”</p><p>You shook the scan and he snatched it from your hand. Stephen gave it a quick glance before narrowing his eyes at you.</p><p>“I played his music in my OR.”</p><p>“Hm?” You flipped the page.</p><p>“I played his music in my OR and you never thought to mention…”</p><p>Rolling your eyes, you tore your attention from your file and glared at him.</p><p>“I don’t tell people because they get weird. Like you’re doing right now.”</p><p>“It’s a shadow.” He passed the scan back to you. “And I’m not being weird. I just think you could have told me.”</p><p>“Thank you for the consult, Doctor Strange.”</p><p>Strutting out of his office, you passed Nick on your way to the hallway. You exchanged a nod as he scuttled right past Billy.</p><p>“Is she, um…”</p><p>“What do you want, West?” Stephen didn’t look up from his monitor. </p><p>“Are you dating?”</p><p>“Not. Interested.”</p><p>“No, no, no,” Nick stammered. “Are you dating...you know.”</p><p>“Since when are you so fascinated by my personal life? Don’t you have a patient to misdiagnose?”</p><p>“Strange, I just...nevermind.”</p><p>He spun around but stopped at the sound of Stephen’s voice. </p><p>“Wait.”</p><p>Nick looked at him and sucked in a breath.</p><p>“I’m dating Christine Palmer," Stephen reported. "Although I don’t think she’d sleep with you anyway.”</p><p>“No, not, um, not Doctor Palmer.”</p><p>“You’re already losing my interest.”</p><p>Stephen started redirecting his attention to his computer. That is...until Nick blurted out your name. </p><p>Your name.</p><p>Stephen furrowed his brow.</p><p>“Why didn’t you ask Christine about this? Spare yourself the embarrassment?”</p><p>“Because you two seem closer and I just, I had to be sure.”</p><p>“You want to ask her out?” Stephen cocked an eyebrow. </p><p>“Presuming you weren’t...you know.”</p><p>“Go ahead.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Go ahead and ask her to dinner.” Stephen shrugged. But he paused before holding up a finger. “No, ask her to karaoke. She would like that better.”</p><p>“Do you mean that? Wait, no. Why would you help me?”</p><p>“I have no interest in helping you, Nick. But she seems to have a fondness for you. God only knows why. And I...I just want her to be happy.”</p><p>He plastered on a smile. </p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“Ask away. Just be sure you’re familiar with Deception. It’s her favorite band.”</p><p>“Well, um, thank you.”</p><p>“Get out of my office.”</p><p> </p><p>That evening, you completed discharge papers in the ER with Christine. Nick cautiously approached you at the nurse’s station. </p><p>“May I have a word?”</p><p>“Of course. What can I do for you, Nick?”</p><p>“I, um, I wanted to know if you’d like to go to karaoke with me sometime?”</p><p>“Karaoke?”</p><p>“I hear you’re a fan of Deception.”</p><p>But Nick’s face paled as you stared at him with your mouth hanging open. </p><p>“Did Doctor Strange put you up to this?”</p><p>“Up to what?”</p><p>Christine tilted her head to side just as Stephen entered the ER to check if she was ready to go home. You spun around and glared at him with a look that no one had ever seen on your face. But they were sure you could eviscerate a grown man with the stare alone.</p><p>“Are you just telling everyone you possibly can? This is exactly why I didn’t say anything!”</p><p>“Tell people...what…” Christine glanced at Stephen. </p><p>“Alright, since you’ll all find out anyway, my boyfriend is Isaac Bolton. I didn’t say anything because this is what happens every time people find out.”</p><p>You jabbed your clipboard toward Nick. </p><p>“And since I know you’re all going to ask, yes. We will go to karaoke. But only once and then you have to treat me like I’m totally normal! Are we in agreement?”</p><p>“Wait, your boyfriend is the lead singer of Deception?” Christine asked with wide eyes.</p><p>“Was,” Stephen corrected. “They broke up.”</p><p>“Oh my God.” She couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face. “But still, he is, well, good for you.”</p><p>As you rolled your eyes, Stephen’s upper lip twitched. He wasn’t going to wipe the drool from Christine’s face. Apparently everyone was embarrassing themselves today.</p><p>“Let me know when karaoke night is,” you grumbled. “This is why I prefer kids. They’re weirdos in the way you like and not the ways you don’t.”</p><p>With your paperwork complete, you tossed your clipboard aside and marched out of the ER.</p><p>When you were out of sight and out of earshot, Nick glared at Stephen.</p><p>“You set me up.”</p><p>“No, if I set you up, the four of us would have gone to dinner. Because that’s what friends do. But since we’re not friends, that’s never happening.”</p><p>Stephen stormed off.</p><p>“Stephen! I’m done here.” Christine chased after him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Somebody to Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you'd like an image, I kinda imagine Isaac looking a bit like <a href="https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/gilmoregirls/images/a/a1/115chris.jpg/revision/latest/scale-to-width-down/996?cb=20190309042857">David Sutcliffe</a> in his late 30s, early 40s. Not completely, but sorta.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This. Was. Not. Happening.</p><p>Crossing his arms, Stephen leaned back in his chair. The thing was disgusting, in case anyone wanted his opinion. </p><p>As Christine and Nick bickered over the menu—because apparently, everything at this God-forsaken establishment was “sharable”—Isaac wrapped his arm around you and drew you close.</p><p>“Owner said you guys could have whatever you want,” the musician laughed. “Go crazy.”</p><p>Your waiter arrived with a round of beers. Vodka soda for you. Gin and tonic for Stephen.</p><p>“Hot wings are supposed to be spicy,” Christine said. “It’s literally in the name.”</p><p>“I have a sensitive stomach!” Nick threw out his hands.</p><p>Billy cocked an eyebrow. “Get some barbeque and some habanero and call it good?”</p><p>“Look at Solomon go.” Isaac smirked.</p><p>Stephen glared at him. “Solomon is not a blanket statement for—”</p><p>“Stephen,” Christine chided. “Lay off.”</p><p>Collecting the menus, she gave the table a nod. </p><p>“I’m going to put in our order. I tried to get us in earlier. But I managed to reserve a few slots in about an hour. So start warming up those pipes.”</p><p>“I don’t trust you.” Nick scampered after her.</p><p>They pushed their way through a crowd of people to access the bar. Billy furrowed his brow and looked around the room.</p><p>“It’s packed tonight. They’re usually not this busy.”</p><p>“Did you check their Twitter?” Isaac asked.</p><p>Raising a brow, Billy pulled out his phone to confirm that the bar tweeted the presence of a musical celebrity. Stephen rolled his eyes, inspiring a chuckle from you.</p><p>“This is your first time here?” you asked.</p><p>“And last.”</p><p>“He never goes out with us.” Billy shrugged. “But Christine managed to convince him.”</p><p>“Is that so?” Isaac grinned at Stephen.</p><p>Ignoring Stephen’s discomfort, you patted your boyfriend’s chest and smiled at him.</p><p>“Have you picked your song?”</p><p>“Hey, don’t worry yourself. It’s just covers tonight. Keeping with the karaoke spirit.” He nodded to Stephen. “Do you sing?”</p><p>But before Stephen had to suffer through a response, a young woman tapped Isaac on the shoulder. </p><p>“Hi.” </p><p>“Hi.” He turned around and grinned.</p><p>“My husband, well, he’s a big fan. And, oh God. I hate to be this person. But is there a chance we could...”</p><p>Isaac already had a sharpie in hand. “You want your forehead or a napkin for posterity?”</p><p>She covered her mouth and giggled.</p><p>“Napkin would be lovely.”</p><p>Isaac scribbled a note and signature before passing off the napkin. This certainly wouldn’t be the last autograph of the evening. </p><p>As she made her way back to her seat, you raised your eyebrows at him.</p><p>“To love’s eternal glory?”</p><p>“Let’s hope they’re Office fans too.”</p><p>Stephen started grumbling to himself. But his internal monologue was interrupted when Christine and Nick took their seats again.</p><p>“So I’ve got a question.” Christine rested her palms on the table.</p><p>Isaac cocked an eyebrow. “Maybe I’ve got an answer?”</p><p>“In every one of your interviews, you said you were single. But you two have been together for...years, yes?”</p><p>Stephen stared at her. But his attention was quickly diverted when you glanced down and shifted in your seat. You picked at your nails and Isaac tightened his grip around your shoulders.</p><p>“It was an image thing. My publicist thought it would look better if I was a perpetual bachelor. And I don’t know, I just went along with it. Call it a youthful indiscretion.”</p><p>“How did you two meet?” Christine asked.</p><p>“Place pretty similar to this. She attended a concert with some co-workers and hit up a bar after. Caught my eye, I mean, how could she not? And I won’t bore you with the sordid details. But we’ll just say the rest is history.”</p><p>“And Deception…?”</p><p>“Christine,” Stephen warned.</p><p>“What? When are we ever going to get to hear it straight from the source.”</p><p>“We’ll just call it creative differences.” Isaac winked at her.</p><p>Christine shrugged. “Figures.”</p><p>As the table started to fill with basket after basket of food, Nick pointed a finger at Isaac. </p><p>“I listened to some of your music.”</p><p>“Oh?” Isaac grinned.</p><p>Stephen rested his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands with a groan. </p><p>“I think Doctor Strange should be the first one up tonight.” You smirked.</p><p>“We could do a duet.” Christine elbowed him.</p><p>“I’m here. Let’s just leave it at that.”</p><p>She rolled her eyes just as the attention of the room was directed to the stage. After a glowing welcome from the owner of the karaoke bar, he handed off the mic to the first singers of the night.</p><p>While Stephen admittedly enjoyed your boyfriend’s music, hearing six different renditions of his top songs from musical talent ranging from bad to life-threatening made him promise he’d never listen to Deception again.</p><p>He was almost relieved when it came time for your group’s slot of songs.</p><p>“You have to start us off,” Billy said to Isaac.</p><p>“But who the hell is going to follow up that act?” Nick cocked an eyebrow.</p><p>Christine shook her head. “I’ll go.”</p><p>As she took the stage, you and Isaac cheered with an embarrassing degree of enthusiasm. Just as Stephen anticipated hearing yet another one of your boyfriend’s songs, he was relieved—utterly and wholly relieved—to welcome the sounds of Katy Perry instead.</p><p>
  <em> Legendary Lovers. </em>
</p><p>Isaac smirked. And Christine certainly put on a full performance.</p><p>“She’s got some pipes, man. Nice job.”</p><p>“I don’t own her musical talent,” Stephen grumbled.</p><p>“Oh, c’mon now. You know that’s not what I meant.”</p><p>“Christine is an amazing person, Doctor Strange. The fact that you managed to become her boyfriend is a reflection on you as well. Just take the compliment?”</p><p>“I’m not going to be able to top that.” Billy shook his head.</p><p>“Me neither,” Nick added before they began a round of rock paper scissors.</p><p>As Christine set down the mic, you leaped to your feet with the crowd’s applause. </p><p>“Christine Palmer is the shit!” You threw your fist in the air.</p><p>“You talk to your patients with that mouth?” She sauntered back to the table.</p><p>“You did great. Even Isaac says so.”</p><p>“Well, thank you.” She gave you both a bow before taking her seat next to Stephen.</p><p>Billy and Nick stared at their hands.</p><p>Rock and rock.</p><p>“Duet?” Billy asked.</p><p>“Duet.”</p><p>The two took the stage and opted for <em> Imagine </em> by John Lennon. It wasn’t necessarily bad. But Stephen was ready to stab his eye just to get to the inside of an OR. </p><p>Or outside this bar.</p><p>But his expression softened when he saw the smile across your face as you looked at Isaac. He’d never seen you look at, well, anyone like that.</p><p>“Are you at least trying to have a good time?” Christine whispered in his ear.</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>He redirected his attention, awakened from his trance.</p><p>“Thank you for coming tonight. It means a lot to me.”</p><p>He furrowed his brow. “Of course. You...you mean a lot to me…”</p><p>Relief washed over her face as she leaned in, wrapping her hand around the nape of his neck to draw him into a kiss.</p><p>Leaning your head on Isaac’s shoulder, you nodded to them. Isaac gave you a wink just as Billy and Nick finished on stage.</p><p>“You wanna head up there?” he asked Stephen.</p><p>Everyone already knew the answer. </p><p>When Stephen shook his head, you leaned back to allow Isaac to peel his body from you. He took the stage to a boisterous applause. Yet, Stephen couldn’t help but notice you only smiled as the musician grabbed the mic.</p><p>“Some of you might know me for my interpretive dancing…” Isaac grinned, inciting a chuckle from the crowd. “But really, it’s such a treat to be here tonight with all of you. I moved here from Baltimore less than a year ago and I gotta say, I’ve been missing out.”</p><p>The bar rippled out with applause, cheers, and single “fuck Baltimore!”. Chuckling, you stirred your drink and smiled as Isaac redirected his attention to you.</p><p>“But I have to offer a quick dedication to my girl. She’s a real-life superhero. Saving kids every damn day with a smile that lights up the room. And you, you saved me.”</p><p>You sucked in a breath as every head turned toward you. Your eyes flickered to Christine and she gave you an encouraging smile. Although Stephen remained expressionless. </p><p>“To fresh starts, babe.” Isaac winked at you before swaying to the opening bars of <em> Jack &amp; Diane </em>by John Mellencamp.</p><p>Stephen could only stare at you as you watched your boyfriend serenade you in a bar packed with people. After years of being his best-kept secret, here he was proclaiming his love for you in the best way he knew how.</p><p>It started to feel like the good old days again.</p><p>“Oh, let it rock, let it roll,” he sang. “Let the bible belt come and save my soul.”</p><p>Christine wrapped her arms around Stephen’s and rested her head on his shoulder. She could get used to more nights like this.</p><p>Isaac finished to the tune of a rowdy applause and gestured for you to come on stage. </p><p>As Stephen studied your expression, he narrowed his eyes. There was no way you were going to—</p><p>You leaped from your seat and wrapped your hands around the sides of Isaac’s face. With a kiss that would surely make the rounds across the internet, the ache of the past few years melted away.</p><p>And maybe, just maybe you could believe in fresh starts.</p><p>Withdrawing from him, you yanked the mic from his hand with a smirk. You shooed him off the stage. And Stephen, for one, appreciated the offense on Isaac’s face. Even if it was feigned. </p><p>“Are you booing me off the stage?” Isaac laughed.</p><p>“Take a seat, Mr. Bolton. It’s my turn.”</p><p>Isaac scurried back to his seat with a smile that he hadn’t worn for years. Holding the microphone to your lips, you drew in a breath.</p><p>As the recording started, he shook his head with wide eyes.</p><p>“Mercury. That’s ambitious, babe.”</p><p>Stephen wasn’t going to read into this. No, he was not going to read into the fact that you were singing—and singing <em> remarkably </em> well by his standards— <em> Somebody to Love </em> by Queen.</p><p>“I just gotta get out of this prison cell.” </p><p>You smiled at Christine.</p><p>“One day I'm gonna be free, Lord!”</p><p>And as you repeated “find me somebody to love” your eyes drifted, drifted, drifted from Isaac only to…</p><p>Lock with Stephen’s.</p><p>But the moment was short-lived. And you tore your gaze away from him with a shimmy, continuing a stunning performance and finishing the song. You hadn’t felt this alive in so, so long.</p><p>You weren’t sure how it happened, but suddenly you were back at your seat. Chest heaving, you downed the rest of your drink and slammed your glass to the table.</p><p>“I didn’t know you had that range in you,” Isaac laughed.</p><p>“Neither did I.”</p><p>“We’ve still got one more spot.” Christine smiled. “Any takers?”</p><p>She tugged on Stephen’s sleeve. But Nick and Billy eagerly looked at Isaac.</p><p>“You sure, man? Last shot.” He gestured to Stephen. </p><p>But when the neurosurgeon waved a hand through the air, Isaac bolted onto the stage. As he gave into the audience demands for his number one hit, you sobered back to reality.</p><p>And life returned to normal once again.</p><p>After enduring three more hours of mediocrity (of musical talent and signatures), Stephen finally managed to escape the bar with Christine.</p><p>On the sidewalk, he started to hail a cab. But you and Isaac stumbled out the front door. With a laugh, you hiccuped and threw your arms around Christine.</p><p>“Thanks for this.” </p><p>She held onto your shoulders as she guided you upright. </p><p>“You don’t drink a lot do you?”</p><p>“Nope!”</p><p>But when you threw your hand over your stomach, Christine’s eyes widened and she led you away from your boyfriends. </p><p>As Christine waited to see if you’d puke your guts out—damn, you were a lightweight for dating a rock star—Isaac extended his hand to Stephen.</p><p>“Hey, thanks for coming out.”</p><p>Pursing his lips, Stephen cautiously accepted the offering with a firm shake.</p><p>“I’ve got a question for you,” Isaac said. “If you’re willing.”</p><p>“Sure…”</p><p>“This is our first Christmas together since, well, you know. You seem like a smart guy and I’m sure you could sense it’s been...a tough year for us. But she’s the hardest person to buy gifts for. The. Hardest. I’ve gotten her jewelry, clothes, and cheesy medical trinkets. But I don’t know. She’s incredibly…”</p><p>“Pragmatic.”</p><p>“Uh, yeah, sure. So I wanted to know since you’re a doctor and all, what does she need?”</p><p>Stephen stared at him.</p><p>This guy.</p><p>This fucking guy.</p><p>There were so many answers to that one question. But better sensibilities weakened by the effects of alcohol, Stephen drew in a breath.</p><p>“You’re...friendly with Tony Stark?”</p><p>Of course he was. Everyone’s seen the magazine covers of their unrelenting bromance. Along with the interviews where he repeatedly professed that he wasn’t dating you.</p><p>“Sure, I’ve played a few gigs for his parties.” Isaac shrugged. “Don’t mention him around her though. It’s kinda a sore subject.”</p><p>Studying the face of your boyfriend, Stephen pursed his lips and swallowed. And, committing to the words he told Nick earlier that week, he gave Isaac a nod.</p><p>“This is what you’re going to do.”</p><p>When Stephen finished relaying his advice, you stumbled back to the sidewalk.</p><p>“I can, yup. I can make it home.”</p><p>“C’mon, party animal.” Isaac threw your arm over his shoulder. “Let’s get you to bed.”</p><p>Stephen and Christine followed suit. </p><p>As she nestled next to him in bed—she was spending more and more nights there...was he supposed to call it their apartment now?—Christine placed her hand on his chest and smiled.</p><p>“Thank you again for coming out. It’s not often we get a night where one of us isn’t on call.”</p><p>“Of course.” He continued to stare at the ceiling.</p><p>“I never imagined meeting Isaac Bolton. But he’s nicer than I thought. He gave an autograph to every person that asked.”</p><p>“Mhm.”</p><p>“And what he said to her. I don’t know, they seem good for each other.”</p><p>“She’s miserable.” Stephen turned on his side.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“She’s miserable. And she doesn’t even know it.”</p><p>“So now you’re telling women how they really feel?”</p><p>Christine propped herself upright and glared at him in the dark.</p><p>“Did you not see it?” Stephen grumbled.</p><p>“Are you jealous?”</p><p>Furrowing his brow, he looked over his shoulder. </p><p>“What? No.”</p><p>“Stephen…I need to ask you something and I need you to be honest with me.”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Do you have feelings for her?”</p><p>“What kind of a question is that?” He flipped over to scowl at her.</p><p>“I just need the truth.”</p><p>“Of course, not. I’m with you.”</p><p>“That doesn’t…” Christine drew in a breath and glanced down.</p><p>“She looks like little birds dress her in the morning. I have far better taste than that.” He looked her up and down. “Take you for example.”</p><p>“Smooth,” she grumbled, choosing to focus her attention on her hands and pick at her nails.</p><p>Stephen gritted his teeth. </p><p>No, this was not how this conversation was supposed to go. He was supposed to say something, do something...different. Better. Anything but say the words that were coming from his mouth.</p><p>How is it he could remove an alleged inoperable tumor but having a conversation—this particular conversation...it felt important, whatever it was—was a complete mystery to him?</p><p>What would you do?</p><p>
  <em> What would you do? What would you do? What would you do? </em>
</p><p>You always knew how to make everyone happy.</p><p>And they never looked at you the way Christine was looking at him. God, it was awful. Even in the moonlit darkness of his (their?) apartment.</p><p>Drawing in a breath, Stephen cautiously wrapped his hand around the side of Christine’s face. He looked into her eyes before—</p><p>“I love you.”</p><p>What? No, no, no, no. He didn’t know what to do. But that had to be the wrong answer. The wrong answer, certainly. What was he supposed to do now? </p><p>He was never asking you for relationship advice ever again.</p><p>Holding her breath, Christine slowly raised her gaze to him.</p><p>“What?” Her voice cracked.</p><p>“I love you.”</p><p>No! No, no, no, no! He was going to have to get a head CT tomorrow because he apparently lost complete control over his verbal processes. This was your fault. You were lodged in his brain like a butterfly tumor and there was no—</p><p>“I love you too,” she said.</p><p>Unintelligible words.</p><p>All that he could muster were unintelligible words.</p><p>What was wrong with his fucking brain? Would someone get a goddamn doctor in here? Because he must be having a stroke. Surely he was having a stroke? </p><p>He should touch his face and see if it was lopsided. The rate of strokes amongst people in their forties was increasing and he was not going to go out because of a ruptured blood vessel in his brain. </p><p>Not his brain. Not like this.</p><p>As Christine watched world-renowned neurosurgeon Doctor Stephen Strange, MD, PhD, completely fall apart because of four words that escaped her lips, she smiled.</p><p>She fucking smiled.</p><p>“Are you going to be okay?” she asked.</p><p>“I am having a stroke.”</p><p>“No, you’re not.”</p><p>“Yes, I am.” He gritted his teeth.</p><p>“Stephen, I’m a trauma surgeon. I know what a stroke looks like. You’re not having a stroke.”</p><p>“Then what is this?”</p><p>“Goodnight, Stephen. I’ll see you tomorrow.”</p><p>She pecked him on the cheek before getting comfortable in bed.</p><p>By the time she fell asleep, Stephen was still clutching the sheets like he would enter another dimension if he released his ironclad grip.</p><p>The last thing he remembered before passing out was wondering if you got home okay.</p><p>He really hoped you did.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I really hope y'all enjoyed that last portion as much as I did lol</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. CTs, EKGs and Greasy Biscuits and Gravy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Babe, I thought you weren’t on call this weekend.”</p><p>Isaac dragged his hand down his face as your pager screamed at you from your nightstand. Flarg, it was relentless.</p><p>“I’m not,” you whimpered.</p><p>Fingers grappling for the intrusive device, you squinted at the screen. But you bolted upright and grabbed your phone to see a series of missed calls and texts from Stephen. </p><p>All to the tune of…</p><p>EMERGENCY</p><p>You scrambled to throw on a pair of jeans. Glancing around your bedroom, you spun around an entire 360 degrees as your eyes darted around.</p><p>“My wallet. Where’s my florking wallet?!”</p><p>Used to this song and dance, Isaac tossed you your wallet from on top of the dresser. He called his favorite cab driver.</p><p>“Cab’ll be here in 2 minutes. Maybe you’d like to revisit the car conversation?”</p><p>“Isaac, not now.”</p><p>“Okay, but is everything okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, it’s fine. Doctor Strange just needs a consult.”</p><p>“It’s 6 am on a Saturday. One that I recall you had off.”</p><p>“I know we were supposed to have the day together. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Anything you want to talk about?”</p><p>“Even if I knew what was going on, you know I can’t tell you.”</p><p>“Alright, alright. But I’m trying, okay?”</p><p>“I’ll be home as soon as I can.”</p><p>You took his jacket and dashed out the door.</p><p>In the taxi, you tried to call Stephen; but to no avail. </p><p>“Farts! This is not the time to be mysterious, you drama queen.”</p><p>He must have already gone into surgery. Yes, that had to be it. </p><p>You called your department. The weekend nurse answered on the first ring.</p><p>“Who’s in surgery with Doctor Strange?” you panted. “We don’t have any high-risk neuro patients.”</p><p>“No one. I thought you weren’t on call this weekend.”</p><p>“I’m not. But I received a ton of pages from neuro.”</p><p>“Wasn’t from us. Everything is fine over here.”</p><p>Furrowing your brow, you ended the call. Just as you hung up, your phone lit up with Stephen’s caller ID.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” you answered. </p><p>“I need you to give me a head CT.”</p><p>“If there’s an emergency, go to the ER. Where’s Christine?”</p><p>“No, I need you to give me a head CT. I can’t let the guys in radiology see.”</p><p>You sucked in a breath. “What...what are your symptoms?”</p><p>“I’ll meet you in my office.”</p><p>He hung up, leaving you with your mouth hanging open.</p><p>The moment you arrived at the hospital, you bolted straight to neurology. Recognizing your footsteps, Stephen swung the door open before you could even touch the handle. </p><p>“Are you going to tell me what this is about?” you heaved.</p><p>“I just need you to give me a head CT. I can’t do it alone.”</p><p>He strode past you and right to radiology. Chasing him down the hallway, you threw out your hands.</p><p>“Should we call Christine? How serious is this?”</p><p>He opened the door to the CT he reserved earlier. Pausing at the threshold, you stared at him with wide eyes.</p><p>“Please, just tell me. Are, are you sick?”</p><p>“I don’t know. Am I?” He gestured for you to enter the room.</p><p>When Stephen was lying on his back and about to enter the machine, you looked at him and sucked in a breath.</p><p>“You’re going to be fine. You, you are going to be fine.”</p><p>“I know how a CT works.”</p><p>Shaking your head, you exited the room and sat at the computer. With scathing attention to detail, you studied Stephen’s brain on the monitor. But you couldn’t find anything abnormal. You’d have to wait to look at the scans with him.</p><p>“Everything looks fine so far,” you said into the mic. </p><p>“Are you sure you—”</p><p>“Yes, I know how to complete a head CT, Doctor Strange. Will you tell me what’s wrong so I can know what I’m looking for? We can complete an MRI too.”</p><p>But receiving silence as your only response, you drew in a breath and went to relieve the machine of your stubborn patient. The tightness in your chest would not relieve itself as Stephen exited the CT.</p><p>He sat upright and narrowed his eyes at you. </p><p>“I’m in love with you.”</p><p>“Oh my God.”</p><p>You stared at him with wide eyes.</p><p>And the tightness...it grew worse. Your chest twisted in knots and your breath grew shallow. Oh God, you were nauseous. In fairness, you were nauseous all morning. But this was a different kind of nauseous. Like a…</p><p>Oh no.</p><p>The pressure. The pressure was building in your chest and it was tight and uncomfortable and twisty and FLARG. This was it. You were having a heart attack. </p><p>You were having a stinkin’ heart attack in front of one of the world’s most renowned neurosurgeons. And farts, you were doomed. Because he clearly had a frontal lobe tumor that you somehow missed.</p><p>That you somehow missed. That you somehow missed. That you somehow missed.</p><p>Oh, God. Your chest hurt. It really, really hurt.</p><p>“Get me to an EKG. I’m having a heart attack,” you panted, grabbing the machine for stability.</p><p>“So this is normal?”</p><p>“What? No! I can’t, I can’t br-breathe.”</p><p>You threw your hand to your chest and fisted your shirt. </p><p>Heart attack symptoms manifest differently in women than in men. And it’s usually subtler than this. </p><p>But after so many women get sent home under presumed panic attacks because of the sexist stinkin’ system, you were not going down because of Doctor Stephen Strange’s assumptions about your mental health.</p><p>And the brain tumor that you FLARKING MISSED on his head CT.</p><p>“Don’t just stare at me! We’re in a hospital!”</p><p>Oh my God. It was worse than you realized. How many symptoms did you miss? How did no one notice that Doctor Strange was running around this hospital and operating on people and splitting open their skulls when he clearly—</p><p>“Christine said she loves me and I thought I was having a stroke. Clearly wasn’t. But I had to make sure nothing else was wrong.”</p><p>You rushed to the trash can and puked. </p><p>Raising your gaze, you gritted your teeth and glared at him.</p><p>This guy.</p><p>This fucking guy.</p><p>Stephen furrowed his brow. God, you were a lightweight for dating a rock star. He was not thrilled about occupying the room with your damn vomit.</p><p>“Oh my GOD!” you shrieked at him, dismissing the pounding of your head.</p><p>You stood upright and pressed your palm to your forehead. With a searing gaze, you clenched your jaw.</p><p>“I hate you.”</p><p>“There’s something wrong with us,” he grumbled as he reunited his feet with the floor. “We are two of the world’s most skilled medical professionals and we can’t properly diagnose a stroke and heart attack.”</p><p>“Because we were self-diagnosing. Like idiots.”</p><p>Pressing your back to the wall, you sank to the floor. </p><p>“I’m going to fucking kill you for this.”</p><p>“No, your heart attack will.”</p><p>“I am so hungover. And I didn’t even put a bra on this morning.”</p><p>Yeah, he noticed. The hangover part...</p><p>You buried your face in your hands with a groan. But as your breath returned to your lungs, you bolted your head upright and narrowed your eyes at him.</p><p>“Wait, Christine said she loves you?”</p><p>“Technically, I said it first.”</p><p>You gave him a deadpan expression. </p><p>“Doctor Strange, did you call me to the hospital at 6 am on a Saturday morning to talk about your relationship problems?”</p><p>“You think there are problems?”</p><p>“Well, I don’t see your girlfriend anywhere!”</p><p>Stephen bit his lip. “I was...overreacting?”</p><p>“You thought you were having a stroke because your girlfriend said she loves you. And after you said it first. Most people are relieved.”</p><p>“You thought you were having a heart attack.”</p><p>“Because I thought you were dying!”</p><p>Stephen drew in a breath. That was...nice to hear? </p><p>“I’m sorry.” He swallowed. “You can go home. I’m sure your boyfriend is worried.”</p><p>“No, no. You’re not getting off that easy.” You hobbled to your feet and pointed a shaky finger in his general direction. Farts, your aim was off. “You’re getting me breakfast. I need some decent hangover food.”</p><p>Stumbling to the hallway, you zipped up Isaac’s jacket and wrinkled your nose. </p><p>“Don’t drive like a jackass. Because I’m not above puking all over your car.”</p><p> </p><p>At the 24 hour diner, you picked at your biscuits and gravy with your mouth slightly agape. This was Isaac’s go-to. But nope, you weren’t going to stomach anything. You dropped your fork to the plate with a clink.</p><p>“So you tell your girlfriend you love her. She says it back. And you think you’re having a stroke?”</p><p>“Are we really going to go over this again?”</p><p>“And now you’re having breakfast with another woman.”</p><p>“You were the one who insisted we eat.”</p><p>“I am never letting you live this down.” You took a sip of water and rolled your eyes. “Did you at least tell her where you are?”</p><p>“No?”</p><p>“Doctor Strange! Your girlfriend told you she loves you for the first time and she woke up to an empty bed?”</p><p>“She called and I said I’d be back later.”</p><p>“God help you.” You dragged your hand down your face. “Will you text her now and tell her where we are? She can join us if she wants to.”</p><p>Pulling out his phone, he obliged. But he furrowed his brow at her reply.</p><p>“She wants to know why we’re meeting at 6 am on a Saturday morning. Why is everyone asking this?”</p><p>“I swear, it’s like you’ve never been in a relationship before. And we're fine. Breakfast is practically the least romantic meal out there. It's not a date unless you had sex right beforehand.”</p><p>But you raised your eyebrows at his vacant expression. </p><p>“You haven’t been in a relationship this long before, have you?”</p><p>“I have no idea what I’m doing.”</p><p>“I shouldn’t be this surprised.”</p><p>“What’s that supposed to mean?”</p><p>You glared at him over the rim of your water glass. “Exactly what you think, Doctor Strange.”</p><p>Stephen shifted in his seat. After setting down your glass, you crossed your arms and leaned back.</p><p>“Do you want to talk about it?”</p><p>“Is that supposed to...help?”</p><p>“For some people. I don’t know about you. You stinkin’ weirdo.”</p><p>With a hard swallow, Stephen glanced around the empty diner. What the fuck was he doing? This wasn’t, this wasn’t right. He cared about Christine. He...he loved her. Yes, he loved her.</p><p>And yet, here he was with you. </p><p>His gaze wandered until it drifted back to your face.</p><p>“How do I fix this?” </p><p>“Tell her to meet you at that cute restaurant down the street.” Pointing over your shoulder, you pulled out your phone and started typing. “Surprise her with a wonderful breakfast.”</p><p>“You have to make reservations there months in advance.”</p><p>“I know…” You didn’t look up. “Isaac will get you in.”</p><p>Setting your phone aside, you beamed at him.</p><p>“I told you. You’re going to be just fine.”</p><p>“I’m not good at this…”</p><p>“You must really love this woman. Look at you all flustered. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.”</p><p>“Because I’ve never been like this. It’s terrible.”</p><p>“Poor, Doctor Strange. World-renowned neurosurgeon but utterly illiterate in love. It’s adorable.”</p><p>You slid out of the booth and tossed some cash on the table. When your phone pinged, you confirmed the reservations were secured thanks to your boyfriend. </p><p>“Just tell them you’re Isaac’s friend Stephen and they’ll take care of you.”</p><p>“I look like a mess.”</p><p>“Yeah, you do.” </p><p>“What do I tell her?”</p><p>“You’ll figure it out. Just tell her how you really feel.” You shoved your hands in your coat pockets and shrugged. “Next time you need a consult, Doctor Strange, you know where to find me.”</p><p>You exited the diner as Stephen watched you walk away.</p><p>...Watched you walk away.</p><p>Goddamn. Something was wrong with his brain.</p><p>But he was going to figure it out…</p><p>With your help hopefully. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next up, Isaac's Christmas gift :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Scarlet Yellow Fever</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>lol, this always happens where I don't plan on including a character and BAM they appear. *squints at Jim Moriarty* </p>
<p>Here we go, kids.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Standing in front of your bathroom mirror, you readjusted your flower crown over your ears. </p>
<p>The moment the crown landed on your head, the points popped off. But if you put your crown on first, the points would smoosh the flowers. It was quite the conundrum. One that you encountered every year and forgot about by January.</p>
<p>“Ah, which came first?” Isaac mused from the doorway. “The elf ears or the flowers?”</p>
<p>“I should just leave an open spot in the flowers where the ears go.” </p>
<p>You spun around and pointed at him.</p>
<p>“Yes, that’s what you do every year.” He smirked.</p>
<p>After making the necessary adjustments, you threw your bag over your shoulder and shuffled to the front door. But before you exited your apartment, Isaac grabbed your wrist.</p>
<p>“Have a great day today.”</p>
<p>“Thanks, you too.”</p>
<p>“No, I...I mean it. Really, have an amazing day. You deserve it.”</p>
<p>As the corner of your lip tugged into an even bigger smile—God, you looked beautiful like this. Ears and all—you leaned in and cautiously pressed your lips to his cheek. Without disrupting any of the flowers upon your head, you gave his hand a squeeze before heading to work.</p>
<p>Stephen strutted through the main lobby of the hospital with his nose buried in some scans. But when a glimmer of blush pink caught his eye, he jerked his head up to see you.</p>
<p>Standing in line for coffee.</p>
<p>With, oh my God, yes, those were elf ears. Christmas came early this year.</p>
<p>He took a spot behind you and leaned forward.</p>
<p>“I think you’re late for your shift at Santa’s workshop.”</p>
<p>You looked over your shoulder and smiled at him. Pinching his cheek, you puckered your lips and shrugged.</p>
<p>“Doctor Strange wishes he was magical enough to be an elf.”</p>
<p>You turned back around just as Kayla rushed up to you.</p>
<p>“All your surgeries have been canceled,” she said.</p>
<p>“What?” you and Stephen asked.</p>
<p>Your eyes flickered to him before returning to Kayla.</p>
<p>“What happened? We didn’t have anything urgent today, but...are the ORs booked up?”</p>
<p>“It was on the insistence of the board.”</p>
<p>“The board?” Stephen asked.</p>
<p>“Did they suspend me? Did I...I don’t understand.”</p>
<p>“No, they just needed your schedule free today for—”</p>
<p>But the attention of everyone in the lobby was diverted to the front doors. A hoard of reporters and paparazzi rushed inside.</p>
<p>With Isaac Bolton and Tony Stark at the center of all the attention.</p>
<p>“Oh, shit,” you whispered.</p>
<p>Holding out his hands, Tony rushed over to you.</p>
<p>“Doctor Sparkles!”</p>
<p>He placed a kiss on either side of your face before bringing you into an embrace. You forced a smile while Tony patted your back.</p>
<p>“Tony! It’s fantastic to see you.” </p>
<p>Holding onto your shoulders, he withdrew and smirked.</p>
<p>“What happened to your ears? Might need a doctor to look at that.”</p>
<p>“She’s an elf, jackass.” Stephen glared at him.</p>
<p>“Oh? And is that your professional medical opinion?”</p>
<p>Tony patted your shoulder and led you away from the coffee line. Arm draped around your upper back, he covered his mouth and swallowed.</p>
<p>“You got the fruit basket?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Tony. That was ages ago.”</p>
<p>“Good, good.” He squeezed your shoulder as Isaac took his place next to you. “Time for a tour of your kiddos!”</p>
<p>“A tour?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, we got the keys to your castle.”</p>
<p>With wide eyes, you slowly turned to Isaac.</p>
<p>“What are you guys doing here?”</p>
<p>“Merry Christmas, babe.”</p>
<p>As Stephen watched your conversation from across the lobby, he could only shake his head. This isn’t what he told your boyfriend to do. Well, it is. But definitely not in this way. Not in this way at all. Did he really have to spell it out?</p>
<p>“Okay,” you gulped. “I need you both to back up at least two hair-brained schemes and explain to me what the…what the...”</p>
<p>“It’s okay, Sparkles. Use that foul mouth I know and love.”</p>
<p>“What the fuck are you doing here?!”</p>
<p>Turning you to fully face him, Isaac rested his hands on your shoulders. He looked into your eyes and drew in a breath.</p>
<p>“I never know what to get you.”</p>
<p>“I know. Because I’m a hard person to buy gifts for.”</p>
<p>“Well, this year I enlisted a little help. And I’m here to tell you that Stark Industries and I have donated five million dollars to your department.”</p>
<p>“You...you...you what? You can’t afford that.”</p>
<p>“I mean, not me personally. The merch sales and whatnot. It was mainly Tony.”</p>
<p>“But these dollars aren’t here to just get shoved in administrative pockets.” Tony held up a finger. “They’re specifically to be used per your discretion”</p>
<p>Even from across the crowd, Stephen could see your jaw drop to the floor. He had to admit, he didn’t expect them to muster up five million dollars. And apparently, neither did you. </p>
<p>You threw your hands over your hanging mouth and stared at them.</p>
<p>“We had a whole speech planned,” Tony laughed. “But your face makes it all worth it.” </p>
<p>You squeaked a sound. A single sound.</p>
<p>“Dude, I think we broke her brain.”</p>
<p>“What do you think?” Isaac gulped. </p>
<p>“So, um, you want a tour? You’re here to hang out on the Peds floor today?”</p>
<p>Your sanctuary. Your haven. The place where medicine came second to magic and miracles. Where children defeated hospital gremlins with flowers on their nightstands, learned to believe in themselves with unflinching faith, and received their scars like badges of honor.</p>
<p>And now, Tony Stark, a real-life superhero according to some, was going to stomp through your sacred grounds.</p>
<p>“C’mon, babe. The kids will love it.” Isaac squeezed your hand.</p>
<p>“Please tell me you brought the suit at least?”</p>
<p>“Santa’s here and he’s got some gifts.” Tony wiggled his eyebrows. “But I’m not complete without my elf.”</p>
<p>“What do you say?” Isaac smiled at you.</p>
<p>As if you had a flarking choice.</p>
<p>“Um, sure. Let’s head to the Peds floor.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the ER, Christine flipped through the patient files at the nurses’ station. It was quiet...too quiet. Maybe she shouldn’t jinx it. </p>
<p>She checked her watch just as you rushed over and threw your palms to the counter.</p>
<p>“Please tell me you have something for me.”</p>
<p>“No one under eighteen.”</p>
<p>“Anything. I’ll take anything.”</p>
<p>“We’re actually not that busy today...it’s kind of creepy.”</p>
<p>Crossing her arms, Christine shrugged and leaned against the counter. You hung your head and drew in a breath.</p>
<p>“Don’t you have some fancy visitor thing with Stark Industries today anyway?” She cocked an eyebrow. </p>
<p>“It’s been three hours and twelve minutes and I need to get inside an OR.”</p>
<p>“Oh, you know what? I could use a consult.”</p>
<p>“Thank God.”</p>
<p>“Walk with me.”</p>
<p>Christine led you back to the attendings’ ER lounge. Retrieving her bag from a locker, she set in on the table and withdrew a matte black box. Raising her eyebrows, she handed it to you.</p>
<p>“What do you think?”</p>
<p>You opened the box to reveal a Jaeger LeCoultre timepiece.</p>
<p>“Christine…”</p>
<p>“Is it too much? Because if so, it’s a little late. I got it engraved.”</p>
<p>Turning the leather band between your fingers, you flipped the watch to reveal the message. You sucked in a breath and held it.</p>
<p>“This is…wow.”</p>
<p>“I know we haven’t been together long. But I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t waited for this. And Stephen...He wouldn’t do this if he wasn’t serious, would he?”</p>
<p>“He’s completely in love with you, Christine. I’ve seen it.”</p>
<p>“That…” She closed her eyes and released an exhale. “Means more than you know.”</p>
<p>“He’s kinda stupid sometimes. But I think that’s just proof he’s really committed. He wouldn’t put himself in the position to <em> not </em> be the smartest person in the room unless he really meant it.”</p>
<p>You handed the box back to her. She bit her lip and shrugged.</p>
<p>“I mean, it’s no five-million-dollar donation, but…”</p>
<p>“If it makes you feel better, he usually gets me a bunch of useless crap. Like one year he gave me an ice cube tray that was shaped like strawberries. I mean, they were cute. But....”</p>
<p>After a swallow, you shook your head and looked back at her. </p>
<p>“No, it’s not too much, Christine. You’re not too much.”</p>
<p>“And the five million dollars?”</p>
<p>“Well, he really put some thought into it this year. I admit...I’m surprised.”</p>
<p>“But it’s a good thing?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I...I think so.”</p>
<p>“He really loves you. I’ve seen it too.”</p>
<p>“I guess I should get back there.”</p>
<p>“What are you getting him?”</p>
<p>“Honestly?” You grimaced. “I haven’t thought about it yet.”</p>
<p>“The best thing he has in his life is you. Give him more of that however you’d like.”</p>
<p>“You’re a brilliant woman, Christine Palmer.”</p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Back on the Peds floor, Isaac outstretched his arms when you entered the staff lounge.</p>
<p>“Hey, I missed you. You didn’t get a headache, did you? You know, the kind that mysteriously appears whenever Tony is around?”</p>
<p>“Maybe you should get that checked out,” Tony chuckled. </p>
<p>Sitting on the couch in his suit (sans helmet), he plucked a cookie from the coffee table platter and devoured a bite.</p>
<p>“Just you wait, man. She’s buddies with one of the world’s best neurosurgeons. If anyone can figure out what’s going on in that head, it’s him.”</p>
<p>“The dude who’s ready to put out for Keebler?”</p>
<p>“Oh my God.” You buried your face in your hands.</p>
<p>“You know, I think I would like to have a medical condition named after me.” Tony rested his feet on the coffee table.</p>
<p>“Stark-itus,” Isaac snickered.</p>
<p>“Stark-olepsy.”</p>
<p>Shaking your head, you plopped on the couch next to Tony.</p>
<p>“Scarlet yellow fever,” you suggested, stealing the half-finished cookie from him and taking a bite.</p>
<p>Standing in front of you two, Isaac crossed his arms.</p>
<p>“What’s the opposite of iron deficiency?”</p>
<p>“Iron poisoning,” you and Tony replied.</p>
<p>“Not a cute look.” Tony grimaced.</p>
<p>Wrapping a metal arm around your shoulders, he gave you a squeeze and smirked.</p>
<p>“They’re taking care of you here, Sparkles?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, everyone is actually pretty great.”</p>
<p>“You’re doing good work. I don’t know how a dud like him ended up with such a smart cookie. But we’re proud of you. We really are.”</p>
<p>“Thanks.” </p>
<p>You stared at a curious stain on the rug. You’d have to get a new one sometime. Maybe you’d ask Billy where he got the furnishings for the neuro office. It always looked nice in there.</p>
<p>Propping yourself upright, you rubbed your hands on your knees and smiled at them both.</p>
<p>“Look…” Tony glanced down. “I’m sorry. We’re both sorry. Still.”</p>
<p>“It’s okay, Tony. It’s all over with. Fresh starts, right?”</p>
<p>You sucked in a breath and looked at Isaac.</p>
<p>“Yeah, fresh starts, babe.”</p>
<p>“I have some paperwork to finish and then we can grab lunch?”</p>
<p>“It’s a date.” Isaac winked at you.</p>
<p>“Oh, someone wanted us to tell you that you got a delivery.” Tony leaned back and pointed at the door. “Should be in your office.”</p>
<p>“Thank you. Would you like to be my receptionist? I finally have the budget to make a position just for you.”</p>
<p>“Not the kind of position I was hoping for. But only if I get to wear the ears.”</p>
<p>Laughing, you rose to your feet and strode to your office. Fresh starts were starting to feel better and better. This was certainly your best Christmas with Isaac yet.</p>
<p>You swung open the door to your office to reveal a massive vase of multi-colored peonies on your desk. Furrowing your brow, you walked over to enjoy the display.</p>
<p>Yes, he was really trying. And it was working.</p>
<p>Eyeing the note, you plucked the cardstock from the floral arrangement. But your breath caught in your throat upon reading the message.</p>
<p>
  <em> Good for 10 (complaint-free) pro bono surgery hours. Merry Christmas from The World’s Okayest Employee. </em>
</p>
<p>You blinked a few times to confirm what you read. And, before you could gain control of your body, you dashed out of your office.</p>
<p>“Everything okay?” Isaac called after you.</p>
<p>“I just got paged to neuro.”</p>
<p>Note still hand, you clutched it all the way down the hallway, in the elevator, and to the neurology office. But you sucked in a breath when the handle jammed to confirm that it was locked. </p>
<p>You rushed to the OR schedule and confirmed Stephen’s location. Pocketing the note, you covered your face with a mask and entered his OR to the sound of, well, <em> Somebody to Love. </em></p>
<p>“Everything alright, Doctor Sparkles?” Stephen asked without looking up from his patient’s exposed spine.</p>
<p>“Thank you.”</p>
<p>“For?”</p>
<p>“All of it, Doctor Strange. Thank you for all of it.”</p>
<p>You exited the OR, happiness of the day tainted by a hint of confusion. Isaac was trying. Even if he was borrowing the genius of, well, someone else. </p>
<p>Farts, it was hot in here. </p>
<p>Surely it was the Scarlet Yellow Fever.</p>
<p>Surely.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Happy Valentine's Day, Tony Stark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Unsure of how to follow up Isaac’s five million dollars wrapped in a titanium-gold alloy, you gave him tickets to the Chicago Blackhawks vs. New York Rangers game. He was delighted.</p><p>Because, unlike you, he was an easy person to buy gifts for.</p><p>Stephen surprised Christine with a weekend trip to the Hamptons. She was more than relieved to spend a few days away from Metro-General. But better yet, Stephen was fully there with her.</p><p>When it was just the two of them, it was like time, work, and rock stars (or their girlfriends) didn’t exist. And she too could see the look that you told her about.</p><p>When they returned, you were delighted to see his new watch of choice. Aside from surgery, it never left his wrist.</p><p>New Year’s Eve meant more time in the ER for Christine. But she was stunned to usher in the new year with Stephen by her side. Well, him and a guy who nearly blew himself up setting off unauthorized fireworks.</p><p>Tony rekindled the spirit of the good old days by inviting Isaac to play for his New Year’s Eve party. Even as a solo act, he dazzled the crowd with his exceptional showmanship. You made a silent resolution to give him the benefit of the doubt, regardless of your faith in yourself to keep it.</p><p>By the week of Valentine’s Day, you stood in front of one of your patients with bright red hearts bobbing like antennas from your head.</p><p>“I have good news.”</p><p>On either side, her parents clutched her even tighter.</p><p>“No…” Mom shook her head. “Don’t tell us…”</p><p>“Yes, we have lungs for you.”</p><p>Relief, pure flarking relief, washed over the entire room. </p><p>When you finished relaying the next steps—of course you were enlisting the help of the top cardiothoracic surgeon, lungs were rare for fart’s sake—you made your way back to your office with a permanent smile across your face.</p><p>This called for a celebration.</p><p>Closing the door to your office, you removed everything you could from your desk. You popped your headphones in your ears and leaped on top to indulge in a dance party of one.</p><p>Lungs.</p><p>Your patient had lungs.</p><p>Even against all the odds, she beat them. Of course, she beat them. She had plants to study and places to travel and so much life to live when she could finally breathe, deeply and fully breathe again. </p><p>This day simply couldn’t get any—</p><p>The door swung open to break your trance.</p><p>With a yelp, you lost your footing on top of your desk and fell…</p><p>Right into Stephen’s arms.</p><p>Only one of your earbuds survived the fall. You stared at him with wide eyes as he smirked and raised the other to his ear.</p><p><em>Renegade </em> by Styx.</p><p>“Good pick.”</p><p>He positioned you upright, suppressing a laugh as the hearts bobbed a good five inches above your head. Those things could really defy gravity; even if you couldn’t.</p><p>“Doctor Strange, what are you, um...”</p><p>“What are you celebrating?”</p><p>“My, um, my patient got lungs.”</p><p>“The botanist?”</p><p>“Yeah,” you laughed. “The botanist.”</p><p>Adjusting your coat, you cleared your throat and straightened your posture.</p><p>“What can I do for you?”</p><p>“Valentine’s Day is stupid.”</p><p>“That is your opinion.”</p><p>“Apparently, I was supposed to make plans weeks ago.”</p><p>“Correct.”</p><p>“Who has time for any of this?”</p><p>You checked your watch and sucked in a breath. </p><p>“Ooo, you’re going to have to hurry it up. I’ve got an appointment to consult Nick on his sex life in two minutes.”</p><p>Stephen sat in your office chair and leaned back. </p><p>“So many...God, I can’t even begin to choose…”</p><p>With a grin, you hopped on the edge of your desk. Prodding his knee with the ball of your foot, you raised your eyebrows.</p><p>“You need some help with last-minute Valentine’s plans?”</p><p>“Well, help is a little—”</p><p>“Accurate. Because you are completely clueless when it comes to relationships and you’re lucky enough that you found a woman who finds it endearing.”</p><p>Stephen slumped in your chair and held out his hands.</p><p>“Help.”</p><p>“God, you’re pathetic.”</p><p>“Pathetic enough to be endearing?”</p><p>“So pathetic you surpassed endearing and looped back around to annoying. But you are the luckiest man in the world today because not only is Christine Palmer your girlfriend, but I happen to have a dinner reservation.”</p><p>“And this helps me…”</p><p>“Wow, the conversation can’t deviate from you for half a sentence. If you’d let me finish, I have a dinner reservation for four with two available seats. Tony is back in California for a last minute...whatever he does. I have no idea how he manages to practically live two lives across the country.”</p><p>“He had a date?” Stephen scoffed.</p><p>“Her name ends in a Y...I think it was a Y. Or maybe it’s double E….Carlee! No...Jaimee? He gave us a Rolodex last year. But we haven’t been maintaining it.”</p><p>“Good thing you’re not having dinner with her if you can’t remember her name.”</p><p>“Good for <em> you </em>. Because now you and Christine can join us.”</p><p>“You were planning on inviting us all along, weren’t you?”</p><p>“I was headed to the pit once my dance party of one was complete.”</p><p>“You really should lock the door.”</p><p>“I did. But a nurse tried to open it and the jiggling handle freaked me out so much I fell off the desk. With the door open, at least I have the chance of someone catching me. So thank you.”</p><p>“Or you could just dance on the floor.”</p><p>“Ha! Whoever heard of having a celebratory dance party on the floor? Honestly, Doctor Strange.”</p><p>Shaking his head, Stephen strode to your door. </p><p>“Yeah, I’m the weird one.”</p><p>“Thank you for finally admitting that.”</p><p>You held the door open and gave him a bow. He flicked the hearts bouncing from your headband before giving you a wave from the hallway.</p><p>Any excuse to tell people you loved them was worthwhile. At least, according to your book. </p><p>Sure, Valentine’s Day was cheesy and stupid to some. But why waste your heart being cynical when you could amply express love?</p><p>Who’s the real loser in that scenario?</p><p>Tony made dinner arrangements for the four of you at one of Manhattan’s finest restaurants. Much to Isaac’s chagrin, black tie was required. </p><p>But when all shirts were tucked and bow ties adjusted, you two found yourselves sitting next to each other on the top floor of a high-rise on the Upper East side. Enjoying the view of the city below, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his cheek. </p><p>“And what did I do to deserve such adoration?” He smirked.</p><p>“This place is beautiful.”</p><p>“Yeah.” He looked you up and down. “It really is.”</p><p>“You know I love you.”</p><p>“Oh yeah?”</p><p>“Yes, I very much do.”</p><p>“Well, you’re in luck then. Because I love you too.”</p><p>As you nuzzled closer to Isaac, the maître d' led Stephen and Christine to your table. Stephen was utterly floored when he picked up Christine—she still had her place, was it time to make his theirs?—but here you were.</p><p>No scrubs.</p><p>No antennas.</p><p>No Foreigner t-shirt that you wore to karaoke night.</p><p>But upon your brilliant head was an equally striking display of red roses. Golden rods peeked between the blossoms and burst out like manifested rays of the sun.</p><p>Not to mention the painfully flattering neckline of your black gown.</p><p>You took a sip of your wine just as Stephen and Christine came into view; effectively sending the liquid straight to the back of your throat.</p><p>Flarg.</p><p>Hacking your lungs out, you pressed your palm to the table and set down your glass. Isaac set his hand on your back.</p><p>“Oh God, you’re choking. Should I smack your back or something?”</p><p>Eye spasming, you shook your head and expelled the last droplets. </p><p>“She’s not choking,” Stephen corrected. “She wouldn’t be able to cough or…”</p><p>“I’m...fine.”</p><p>“Tell you she’s fine.”</p><p>Fanning your face, you sucked in a breath and smiled at them.</p><p>“I am fine. Truly.” You rose to your feet. “Hi, it’s so good to see you.”</p><p>Appreciating her glistening navy dress of choice, you gave Christine a hug.</p><p>“You did not help me out there,” you laughed.</p><p>“You seemed to have it covered.”</p><p>As Isaac was just about to extend his hand to Stephen, the neurosurgeon occupied himself by pulling out a chair for Christine. When she took her seat, Stephen sat across from you and clasped his hands over the table.</p><p>“Anyone have any dietary restrictions?” Isaac asked.</p><p>They shook their heads.</p><p>“Good, because tonight, everything is a surprise from off the menu. Courtesy of the chef.”</p><p>“Do you just know everyone in New York City?” Christine asked.</p><p>The waiter poured her a glass of wine and set a gin and tonic in front of Stephen. Mouth slightly open, he started to look at Isaac. But you gave him a wink to answer his unasked question.</p><p>Isaac shook his head after a sip of his whiskey. </p><p>“We can thank Tony for this.”</p><p>“JENNA!” you blurted out. “Her name is Jenna.”</p><p>“That does not end in a Y or EE.” Stephen cocked an eyebrow.</p><p>“Yeah, her name is Jenna,” Isaac chuckled. “Did you not check the Rolodex?”</p><p>“You’ve actually been keeping track of Tony’s romantic conquests in that thing?”</p><p>“And you haven’t?”</p><p>The table rippled with laughter as your first course arrived. Isaac occupied the conversation with a variety of questions to Christine about where she grew up, how she chose her specialty, and if she had any good ER stories to share.</p><p>When Christine was in the middle of recounting the time a guy came in with a five-hour erection, you smiled at Stephen from across the table.</p><p>“You think this is all really stupid.”</p><p>“At least it’s not a set menu dinner at a chain restaurant.”</p><p>“Well, I’m happy you’re here. I’m happy you both are.”</p><p>“But after we asked the woman when he took the pills,” Christine reported, “his wife showed up. Security had to break up their catfight over the guy’s rock hard penis. Literally. Over. His penis.” </p><p>“Oh my God. How long was he stuck like that?” Isaac laughed.</p><p>“It took us a good forty-five minutes to get the urologist.”</p><p>“And what do you do to, you know, deflate him?”</p><p>“Let’s just say it starts with a really big needle.”</p><p>Slicing your stuffed mushroom cap in half, you grinned at Stephen. </p><p>“If we weren’t surgeons, this would be disgusting.”</p><p>“It’s still disgusting.” He raised his eyebrows at you as he took a bite.</p><p>“I’ve got a laminectomy next week. You want in?”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>Isaac furrowed his brow. “Are you two talking shop right now?”</p><p>“Well,” you swallowed and pointed to Christine with your fork. “You two are preoccupied talking about another man’s penis.”</p><p>“What can I say?” Christine shrugged. “Romance is in the air.”</p><p>“I thought the conversation always veered to dicks because Tony was around. But maybe it’s because of you?” You raised your eyebrows at Isaac.</p><p>“I mean, with him there’s only one dick he’s concerned about.”</p><p>“I’ll be sure to tell him his penis received an honorary mention in our conversation. Since he couldn’t make it.”</p><p>Christine nudged Stephen. “You’re quiet tonight.”</p><p>“I don’t have any commentary on Tony Stark’s penis.”</p><p>And as those words left Stephen’s lips, your mushroom flew straight to the back of your throat. A nearly unnoticeable grunt escaped your mouth before you stared at Stephen with wide eyes.</p><p>Hand over your throat, you smacked the table to draw the attention of everyone within spitting distance. </p><p>“Ah, now she’s choking.” Stephen rose to his feet. </p><p>Before Isaac could even stand up, Stephen was behind you. He leaned you over the table and smacked your back three times. </p><p>But when the fungus refused to dislodge itself from your windpipe, he steadied his fist just above your navel. With five firm thrusts inward and up, the doctor successfully sent your food soaring through the air.</p><p>Only to land right in his drink.</p><p>Gasping for oxygen, you slumped in your seat with fluttering eyelids.</p><p>“Thank, thank you.”</p><p>“Are you okay?” Christine asked as your waiter rushed over.</p><p>“Do you need me to call 911?” he asked.</p><p>“We’re all doctors,” she replied.</p><p>As Stephen took his seat, he pointed to Isaac. “Except him.”</p><p>Mouth hanging open, the man eyed your unchewed mushroom bobbing in Stephen’s drink.</p><p>“I’ll freshen this up for you.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“Babe, you good?” Isaac rested his hand on your back.</p><p>“Yes.” You adjusted your flowers. “I’m fine. Aside from completely embarrassed.”</p><p>“Quick thinking, man.” He nodded to Stephen. “You sure you’re not the one running shifts in the ER?”</p><p>“He’s actually been spending a lot more time there.” Christine smiled. “It’s been great having him on call.”</p><p>“Does this make us even?” Stephen asked you.</p><p>“For the heart attack you gave me?”</p><p>“Heart attack? What heart attack?” Isaac looked between you.</p><p>“Fake heart attack,” Stephen grumbled.</p><p>You took a sip of water and shook your head. “Stupid prank he pulled on me.”</p><p>“You...you pranked her?” Christine cocked an eyebrow. “You’re into pranks?”</p><p>“He made me think he had a florking brain tumor!”</p><p>“Stephen! That’s not funny at all.”</p><p>“Does that make us even?” he repeated.</p><p>“I suppose. But only because I can finally tell Tony that I choked because of his dick.”</p><p>“Oh my God.” Isaac dragged his hand down his face. “Pretty sure he’s going to cry tears of joy. Literal tears.”</p><p>“We should video chat him on the way home.”</p><p>Isaac raised his eyebrows at Stephen.</p><p>“Dude, help me out here.”</p><p>“What?” Your eyes flickered between them.</p><p>“Do you really want to talk about Tony Stark’s penis for the rest of the night?” Stephen scoffed.</p><p>“Oh!” you gasped. “That reminds me. The urologist who deflates penises in the ER wants you to know that you’re a dick!”</p><p>Christine crossed her arms over the table.</p><p>“Children. Behave yourselves.”</p><p>“She’s the one who can’t chew her food.”</p><p>“He’s the one who can’t stop saying Tony Stark’s penis.”</p><p>Isaac gestured to the two of you. “This is what a medical degree gets you, ladies and gentlemen. Thank God I never went to college.”</p><p>Stephen paused mid-bite.</p><p>A high school degree. You were dating a man with a high school education. </p><p>“Oh, I think I remember you mentioning that in an interview,” Christine said.</p><p>“Yeah, barely made it through high school. Thought I should just call it quits with the educational system.”</p><p>God, that explained so much.</p><p>So. Fucking. Much.</p><p>With perfect precision, Stephen sliced a mushroom cap into a centimeter by centimeter by centimeter cube. He speared it and offered his fork to you.</p><p>“Do you think you can handle this?”</p><p>“Oh, fuck you!”</p><p>“Damn, babe. Tony’s going to be really disappointed he missed out tonight.”</p><p>Feeling quite confident, Stephen tore the mushroom from his fork with a quick bite. Valentine’s Day was, admittedly, less stupid than he expected.</p><p>Then again, that’s what happens when you get three MDs in the room.</p><p>Three MDs, one PhD, and one high schooler.</p><p>No, high school diploma. </p><p>Your boyfriend only had a high school diploma.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The Talking Stick</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay, I'm no medical professional. So bear with me. We have a kinda sad case that we'll be following in the next few chapters. If you like angst, let's rock n' roll.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Today was going to be a good day.</p><p>Spring was here. Your undergrad student was on her way. And Billy fell in love with your chocolate croissants. </p><p>Yes, today was going to be a good day.</p><p>In the elevator, you bounced on the balls of your feet. Tracing the strap of your bag with your thumb, you brainstormed potential gift options to make this day even more memorable for your student shadow. But a familiar voice cut through your daydream. </p><p>“Hold the elevator!”</p><p>You smacked your palm to the closing door and Stephen scooted through. </p><p>“Thank you,” he panted.</p><p>“Everything okay?”</p><p>“Fine.” He cleared his throat. “I’m fine.”</p><p>Furrowing his brow, Stephen glanced at you. </p><p>“Don’t you have your kid coming today?”</p><p>“She’s a college student, Doctor Strange. Not a child. I still think you should have let one of them shadow you.”</p><p>“And here I thought you knew me better.”</p><p>When the elevator arrived on his floor, Stephen practically leaped out. But he pressed his palm to keep the door open. Eyes flickering from the floor to you, he pursed his lips and nodded.</p><p>“Have fun though.”</p><p>The doors closed to deliver you to your own floor. Smiling at the student in your lobby, you outstretched your hand.</p><p>“You must be Mia.”</p><p>“Yes, it’s so wonderful to be here. Look.” She tapped her nametag. “I got my visitor badge and everything.”</p><p>“How early did you get here?”</p><p>“About an hour ago. I wanted to make sure that I didn’t get lost.”</p><p>“Why, Mia. I like you already.”</p><p>You led her to your office to drop off your bag. After quickly confirming a message from Diagnostic Imaging on your computer, you raised your eyebrows and smiled.</p><p>“First thing we’re going to do is pick up some MRI scans. We have a potential neuro case.” You cocked an eyebrow. “Just how old are you?”</p><p>“Seventeen.”</p><p>Of course...she was a kid. </p><p>Guiding her back to the elevator, you pressed the down button and clasped your hands in front of you. </p><p>“So you’re premed at seventeen. That’s beyond impressive. What’s your major?”</p><p>“English.”</p><p>“Ah, a well-rounded candidate. Excellent.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, but are you...are you Isaac Bolton’s girlfriend?”</p><p>“Oh, flarg.”</p><p>The doors opened and you rushed inside. Pressing the button for the Imaging floor, you sucked in a breath. Mia bit her lip and looked you up and down.</p><p>“Because I know she’s a doctor here and you look a lot like—”</p><p>“Yes, but we’re not here to talk about me. We’re here to talk about you. Have you started studying for your MCATs?”</p><p>“Oh, of course. I ace all my practice tests. What’s he like? And Tony Stark? Oh my God. Are you dating both of them?”</p><p>Holding your breath, your gaze flickered upward. Why did you have to have a neuro consult today? Today was supposed to be a good day.</p><p>“Isaac is fine. Tony is exactly who you’d expect him to be.”</p><p>“It’s like their first and last names are a title for everyone else. But for you, they’re just Isaac and Tony. It’s so weird. Do you think that’s weird? What do they call you?”</p><p>“Flork me.”</p><p>“Does he play for you? Oh, please tell me he serenades you regularly. That would just be so romantic.”</p><p>“Oh, here we are.” You bolted from the elevator. “We had an eight-year-old patient admitted to the ER with seizures. He had terrible morning headaches. But the seizure was new. When he was stabilized, we completed an MRI. Now we’re going to get a closer look at the results.”</p><p>“How long have you two been together? Are you going to get married? Do you want to have kids? Oh, what am I asking? Of course, you want to have kids.”</p><p>“Excuse you?”</p><p>“I’m sorry. Was that rude of me?”</p><p>You pressed your palm to your forehead and drew in a breath. </p><p>“What about you, Mia? Anyone special in your life?”</p><p>“Oh, no. Not me. That’s just...absurd.”</p><p>At the front desk for Diagnostic Imaging, you leaned over the counter and smiled.</p><p>“Hi, Ben.”</p><p>“Ken.”</p><p>“That’s what I said.” You cleared your throat. “I’m here for—”</p><p>He plopped a folder in front of you. Grimacing, you swiped it from the counter and strode down the hallway. You covered the patient’s name with your thumb and held the scan to the light.</p><p>“Isaac never went to college,” Mia said. “So how did you two even meet?”</p><p>“At a bar.”</p><p>You halted in your tracks. Mia collided with your back, lurching you forward. But your feet never left their designated spot on the floor and your eyes remained transfixed on the scan.</p><p>“We have to talk to neurology.”</p><p>In a blur (with a small shadow following you), you marched into Stephen’s office. </p><p>“Do you have a second?”</p><p>Looking up from his files, he glanced between you and Mia. </p><p>“This your shadow?”</p><p>“Mia, this is Doctor Stephen Strange. One of the country's top neurosurgeons.”</p><p>“World’s top neurosurgeons!” Billy corrected from his desk. </p><p>“That’s Billy. His nurse and work wife. Doctor Strange, this is Mia. Columbia student.”</p><p>“H-hi…” Mia waved meekly. </p><p>“She’s young enough to be your patient.”</p><p>“Mia, wait with Billy while I chat with Doctor Strange.”</p><p>As your shadow waited outside Stephen’s office, you passed him the scans and relayed the patient information. But, seeing exactly what you did, he pursed his lips and shook his head. </p><p>“Grade 4 glioma in the pons. How has this kid not had more symptoms?”</p><p>“Your prognosis?”</p><p>“He’ll be dead in six months.” He handed you the scans. “I could try to remove some of it. But he’d still have to undergo chemo. Might buy him another nine, twelve months of aggressive treatments.”</p><p>Drinking in the expression on your face, Stephen sucked in a breath. </p><p>“I’m sorry. I wish it was...different.”</p><p>“Can I leave Mia here while I talk to the family?”</p><p>“What? No.”</p><p>But you were already dashing out the door. </p><p>“Thank you for the consult, Doctor Strange. Mia wait here.”</p><p>The moment you left, Mia scuttled into Stephen’s office and plopped in the chair across from his desk. He knew he shouldn’t have gotten that thing. You never used it anyway. </p><p>“How old are you?” she asked with eager eyes. </p><p>“How old are you?”</p><p>Bury himself in case files. That’s how he’d survive these next thirty minutes. He’d bury himself in case files.</p><p>“Seventeen.”</p><p>“Can’t you go wander the hospital or something? Find a gift shop?”</p><p>“Oh, no. Because I’m a minor and I’m supposed to have supervision. Not that I’m, you know, that young. I can handle myself. I’m just jealous that the other shadows can. I think they’re all getting lunch together later. Do you like lunch?”</p><p>“Food is necessary for continued existence.”</p><p>But, at this particular moment in time, Stephen considered abstaining. These twenty minutes could not pass fast enough. </p><p>“You seem like the type of guy who eats really healthy. Is that a doctor thing or a you thing? Do you workout?”</p><p>Oh, now he was going to kill you for this. </p><p>“How are you premed?”</p><p>“I don’t plan on working directly with patients. I want to work in a lab. Pharmaceutical research.”</p><p>“Thank God.” He shook his head. “Why are you shadowing a surgeon then?”</p><p>“The opportunity presented itself and I wanted to make sure this wasn’t what I wanted to do. You know you have the slightest hint of grey right by your temples? Is that because of the stress of the job? Is your schedule crazy or do you make your own because you’re the top neurosurgeon? How old are you?”</p><p>With a grunt, Stephen yanked open one of his desk drawers. He fumbled to grab the stupid talking stick you tried to use with him last month. He hated that damn thing. But thank God he hadn’t thrown it out. </p><p>“Here.”</p><p>He smacked the tassel and feather covered abomination on his desk. </p><p>“What am I supposed to do with it?”</p><p>“I don’t know. Play with it or something.”</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>Oh my God. How did you do your job? Anytime he saw your patients, at least they were unconscious. </p><p>As Stephen inched the talking stick across the desk, Mia grabbed it. But not without placing her fingers over his. </p><p>He tried to retract, but she held a firm grip. </p><p>“That’s a nice watch. Did your girlfriend get that for you? Do you have a girlfriend?”</p><p>Stephen yanked his hand away and shifted in his chair. He flipped through some case files, any case files. How long did it take to tell someone their son was dying? Fifteen minutes, tops. </p><p>“I don’t have a boyfriend.” Mia shrugged. “Boys my age are stupid. But all the guys in my classes are way older than me. Although I prefer them to—”</p><p>“Will you STOP talking?”</p><p>“But I have the talking stick?”</p><p>“I thought you didn’t know what that was.”</p><p>“Geez, Stephen. I may be a prodigy. But I’m no idiot.”</p><p>Yes, he was certainly going to kill you for this. </p><p>“Just sit there and don’t say anything.”</p><p>“Do you have a lot of work to do?”</p><p>“What did I just say?”</p><p>Ten minutes. He only had to survive ten minutes of this. </p><p>Mia bit her lip and glanced around the office. She clicked her shoes together. Then tapped her fingers along the armrest of her chair. Then shook out the talking stick.</p><p>Oh, God. That thing was shedding glitter. He forgot about the damn glitter. </p><p>Mia set the talking stick on his desk. </p><p>“You remind me of my friend’s dad.” </p><p>Okay, that was better than the other direction this was going. </p><p>“He’s a total DILF.”</p><p>“BILLY!”</p><p> </p><p>On the Peds floor, you stood in front of Jacob Robinson’s parents in the hallway. </p><p>“So you’re saying our options are to let our son die in six months or eighteen?” Mom fidgeted with her hands, aching for something to hold onto. “There’s no question. Give us as much time as we can get.”</p><p>Dad sighed. “An extra twelve months at best. And he’d be undergoing chemo the whole time. Do you really want to put him through that?”</p><p>“You said the neurosurgeon, that he’s one of the best.” </p><p>“Yes, Doctor Strange is one of the best neurosurgeons in the world. But he’s also the one who gave this prognosis. Twelve months with aggressive treatment is his most optimistic outlook.” </p><p>“But if anyone can remove it, it’s him?”</p><p>“No. Due to the location of the tumor, it’s impossible to remove in its entirety. He could take out as much as he could safely access. But there will be some left. And it will grow back.”</p><p>“Why isn’t he here to tell us this? We’re just supposed to take your word for it? You’re not a neurologist.”</p><p>Dad stroked her back. “There’s a lot we could do in six months.”</p><p>“It’s not enough, not enough time.”</p><p>No, it never is.</p><p>“I know this is difficult,” you apologized. “But you don’t need to select a course of treatment right now.”</p><p>“What would you do?” Dad asked.</p><p>“I can’t make that decision for you. But I can give you time to think it over. Please let me know if you have any additional questions.”</p><p>“Thank you.” He nodded at the floor. “We will.”</p><p> </p><p>In the elevator, you pressed your back to the wall and drew in a breath. </p><p>Today was supposed to be a fucking good day.</p><p>But when you arrived on the neuro floor, you adjusted the lapels of your coat. You recomposed yourself before entering the office. </p><p>Furrowing your brow at Billy’s empty desk—must be on a coffee run—you swung open the door to Stephen’s office.</p><p>Elbows resting on the desk, he sandwiched his skull between his hands as Mia chattered away.</p><p>“If you just tell me when it started, I could estimate the rate of the spread. Does this run in your family? Or what about baldness? How does your maternal grandfather’s head look?”</p><p>“Make it stop,” he whined.</p><p>“Mia, why are you interrogating Doctor Strange about his family tree?”</p><p>“He’s going grey and I wanted to calculate when he would lose all pigment across his head. Anderson Cooper went completely white in his late twenties.”</p><p>“What? Doctor Strange doesn’t have any grey hair.”</p><p>“Yes, he does. By his temples.”</p><p>You poked Stephen’s forehead as a silent demand he raise his head. He obliged, but only to glare at you.</p><p>“Oh my God. You do have a bit of grey. When did that happen?”</p><p>“That’s what I’ve been asking!”</p><p>“I call it,” Stephen grumbled, “the Sparkles Effect.”</p><p>“The what?” You raised your eyebrows.</p><p>“It didn’t start until I met you. Knowing you has aged me and you can literally see the evidence.”</p><p>“Now, Doctor Strange—”</p><p>“Correlation does not mean causation,” Mia piped in. “The only way you can prove causation is in a controlled environment.”</p><p>Stephen jutted his hand toward her. “She’s your shadow. Handle this.”</p><p>“Well, Mia. I think Doctor Strange needs some alone time with the talking stick. Why don’t we head to the cafeteria and you can tell me why you’re really here.”</p><p>“Because I don’t want to—”</p><p>“Ah, ah.” You held up a finger. “No talking until we’re out of earshot of Doctor Strange.”</p><p>Leading her out of Stephen’s office, you looked over your shoulder at the threshold. If looks could kill, you’d be a pile of dust on the floor. But you merely puckered your lips in a mocking fake kiss before gently closing his door.</p><p>Yes, you were definitely even now.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Flork Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is just pure smut, y'all.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Your eyes cracked open to an intrusive chill down your spine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room was dim. And...oh, God. You were in an OR.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>OR 2 to be exact. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Stephen’s preferred room to book. But you weren’t standing and ready for surgery. You were lying on the operating table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What were you doing lying there with...oh, flarg. All you had was a sheet draped over you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes flickering around the room, you pressed the sheet to your chest and slowly propped yourself upright. With your feet dangling over the edge of the table, you started to wrap yourself. But your process was interrupted when Stephen entered the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dressed in scrubs, gloves, a cap, but no mask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What the flork was happening?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stephen, where am—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lie back down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lie down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a hard swallow, you did as you were told; body apparently lost beyond your control. Stephen took his place next to the table and raised his eyebrows at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to have to relax.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded to the monitors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wait...but you didn’t have anything hooked up to you. How were the machines reporting your quickened heart rate and blood pressure? And so accurately? You could feel your heart hammering inside your chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is, um, that’s the least helpful thing you could say,” your voice cracked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t forget you asked me to do this, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To what? I asked you to—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned over and kissed you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was fucking kissing you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, oh God. You, you were kissing him back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your hand trailed into his hair and gently tugged at his dark strands. Guiding your tongue into his mouth, you inhaled the scent of his cologne. You’d never had such an exquisite olfactory experience in your life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But as you fisted the front of his scrubs, Stephen withdrew and shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not what we’re doing today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I want...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Control. You had zero control of your body and apparently the words flying from your mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since we’re finally on a first name basis, do I really need these?” He answered his own question as he removed his gloves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without preamble, he slipped his hand under the sheet and pressed his palm to your sternum. You gasped an exhale at the warmth of his touch, contrasting the otherwise cool temperature of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss you again, “you need to relax. Only way to ensure reliable results.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Testing? What are we…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Relax.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You placed one hand along the side of his face and the other to the nape of his neck. As Stephen continued to kiss you and explore the terrain of your tongue and teeth, his hand gently trailed up your body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the steadiest of touches, the pads of his fingers barely grazed your ribcage to the side of your breast to your clavicle. He guided his hand along your collarbone until he united it with the side of your face with a caring grip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Disturbing the sheet in his exploration, it collapsed to the floor. Your body flinched at the exposure. But he chuckled as your grip around his face and neck tightened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was going to happen eventually,” he murmured</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You withdrew with a sharp inhale, staring at him with wide eyes. The corner of his lip tugged in a smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like more?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nodded with an unexpected degree of enthusiasm. At least, unexpected for you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen pressed his lips to yours. He lingered just long enough to kiss the corner of your mouth. Then jawline. Then neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as he reached your shoulder he bit down and sucked, simultaneously guiding his fingers between your legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His bare fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You arched your back with a gasp as he delicately traced the pads of his fingers across your skin. Maintaining contact with his hand, Stephen pulled away from your face and swallowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remember what we talked about earlier?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” you answered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, what was wrong with your mouth?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen positioned himself at the end of the table. Resting your heels on the edge, you gripped the sides as he cautiously teased his fingers across your folds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yes, you were quite responsive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your body twitched and tensed in protest. But as Stephen used the pad of his thumb to stroke your clit—testing different rhythms, locations, and pressures—your grip on the table tightened and you slammed your eyes closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes flickered to the monitors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Breathe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am,” you grunted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you’re not. Breathe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You freed an exhale with a gratuitous moan. He rewarded you by inserting a finger in you, effectively forcing the air back to your lungs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jerking your head upright, you stared at him with a face of pure panic. But, unperturbed by your concern, he raised his eyebrows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did we talk about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to…” You collapsed back to the table as he curled his finger inside you. “Trust your expertise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” he praised, adding another finger alongside the first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen increased his pace, causing you to only whimper in reply. As his focus shifted to the hand eagerly thrusting inside you, you feebly swatted his other hand aside to begin pleasuring yourself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did I say?” he warned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goddamnit, Stephen. Shut up so I can—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He removed his fingers from you, forcing you to huff a frustrated exhale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you fucking serious right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s too easy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grabbing your hips, he yanked you down to the very edge of the table. Stephen lowered himself to his knees. He pressed his thumb and index finger to your skin, exposed your clit; much to the delight of his tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckled as you gasped in approval.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After guiding your heels to his shoulders, he expertly worked his tongue over you; only re-inserting his two fingers when you were yanking on his hair with both hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You rocked your hips over his face, chasing the building pressure that only accompanied you when you were by yourself or in your dreams.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If you didn’t know better, this was better than anything you could have imagined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen sucked on your clit with an unprecedented degree of devotion. At least, in your sexual history. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continued to finger you until your knees tightened around his head and you pulled on his strands; practically ready to yank them from the roots regardless of pigmentation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This guy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This fucking guy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When your body could only twitch in the aftershocks of your orgasm, he rose to his feet. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Stephen shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything seems to be working properly. And yes, that is my professional medical opinion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He left you as a panting mess, staring at the ceiling until…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes flew open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With Isaac’s arm wrapped around your waist and hand pressed to your sternum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flork you.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. You, Me, and Balto, Baby</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fuck.</p><p>There were not many times in his life that Stephen would dare call himself a desperate man. But that morning, he was desperate. </p><p>Desperate to be anywhere but the confines of his office.</p><p>Billy didn’t have a decent case for him. Anyone could clip an aneurysm or complete a hippocampectomy. But he wanted, no needed, something worthy of his time.</p><p>Worthy of his own brain.</p><p>Waiting for the elevator, Stephen crossed his arms. You still hadn’t followed up about the brain stem glioma kid. While it was an unstimulating case, he had to admit that joining you in the OR sounded…</p><p>The doors opened.</p><p>You bolted your gaze upward from your clipboard. Eyes blowing wide open, you stared at him as he entered the elevator. </p><p>“Morning,” he said.</p><p>Just as the doors started to close, you leaped out of the elevator. Stephen slammed his hand to the doorway.</p><p>“What do you need? I’m right here.”</p><p>Covering your face with your clipboard, you dashed down the hallway.</p><p>“Billy! I have to talk, have to talk to Billy.”</p><p>Leaning against the wall of the elevator, Stephen crossed his arms and let the doors close. </p><p>Were you already planning for next month’s pastry? The chocolate croissants came out just last week.</p><p>Two hours later after your horrific encounter in the elevator, you stood in line for coffee with Kayla. </p><p>“Yes, we should use the pro bono fund.” You nodded. “She needed the appendectomy. There’s no reason to bury her parents in medical bills.”</p><p>“Have you heard back from the Robinsons?”</p><p>“No, but I’m going to follow up with them to—”</p><p>You gulped at the sight of Stephen walking through the lobby.</p><p>Just as his eyes made contact with yours, you bolted from the line. He furrowed his brow and he watched you collide with a family as you rushed away from him.</p><p>“I’m sorry, excuse me.”</p><p>You dashed as fast as you could to…</p><p>The gift shop?</p><p>Narrowing his eyes, Stephen followed after you. </p><p>Upon hearing your name, you flinched and yanked a container of Tic-Tacs from the shelf at the cash register. You tossed some cash at the clerk before turning around and running right into Stephen’s chest.</p><p>Unintelligible words.</p><p>All you could muster were unintelligible words.</p><p>“What is wrong with you?” he asked.</p><p>Babbling to yourself, you darted right past him and rushed back to the lobby. He swiped the Tic-Tacs from the counter and nodded to the clerk.</p><p>“I’ll get these to her.”</p><p>You zig-zagged across the tile floor, relief washing over your face when the elevator across the lobby opened its hallowed doors. </p><p>You peered over your shoulder to confirm your lead on Stephen. Leaping inside, you pressed the button to your floor and proceeded to ram your thumb in a feeble attempt to close the florking doors.</p><p>But he caught up to you with a determined stride. Smacking his hand to the door to pry them open—flarg these security features—he slid into the elevator just as the doors closed behind him.</p><p>His eyes flickered to the single illuminated button.</p><p>“Why are you going to the eighth floor?”</p><p>You buried your face in your clipboard.</p><p>The eighth floor. What the heck was on the eighth floor? You always got it mixed up with the twelfth.</p><p>“Because…” </p><p>“What do you need from dermatology?”</p><p>“I just, um, I have a weird mole.”</p><p>“Do you need me to take a look?” He stepped toward you.</p><p>“NO!” you shrieked, holding the clipboard over your face. “Stay, you stay right over there.”</p><p>Pursing his lips, Stephen yanked the elevator alarm; bringing the lockbox to a halt mid-floor.</p><p>“What is going on with you?”</p><p>His hands. You could still see his florking hands from underneath your clipboard.</p><p>You reached over to re-engage the elevator. But he blocked your access to the control panel…</p><p>With his entire body.</p><p>You leaped backward with a yelp and shielded your face from his. He could only see the tips of the blush pink petals from your head.</p><p>“Did I do something…”</p><p>He placed his hand over the top of your clipboard to lower it. Your body tensed, trying to make yourself as small as possible as his face came into view.</p><p>“Doctor Strange,” you squeaked. “Please just let me get to the dermatology floor.”</p><p>“Let me just take a look. The dermatologists are...not the brightest.”</p><p>You scrambled away from him, only to smack your back to a corner. You literally cornered yourself inside an elevator with Stephen Strange. God help you.</p><p>“No! I don’t, I can’t show <em> you </em>.”</p><p>“Oh...is it something that, um, somewhere...should Christine look?”</p><p>“Just let me go to dermatology!” You cowered behind your clipboard. </p><p>Sucking in a breath, he disengaged the alarm and the elevator stopped at the dermatology floor. When the doors opened, Stephen gave you a nod.</p><p>“Good luck.”</p><p>“Yeah, okay. Bye.”</p><p>Tic-Tacs still in hand, Stephen pressed the button to his floor. What was he doing in the lobby in the first place?</p><p>A few hours passed by. And Stephen was still vacantly staring at his monitor while he tapped the side of his mug with a pen.</p><p>Would you tell him if you had a cancerous mole? Should he follow up with you? Would it be okay if he asked Christine to take a look if it was...well, somewhere he shouldn’t see? Or was this something you wanted to keep private?</p><p>Even if he had the answers to those questions, it still didn’t explain why you couldn’t look at him.</p><p>You...you couldn’t even look at him.</p><p>Before he could examine the tightening in his chest, Billy opened the door to his office.</p><p>“Lunch?”</p><p>Stephen furrowed his brow. “No, I just got paged to Peds.”</p><p>“You? You got paged to Peds?”</p><p>“Isn’t that what I just said?” He rose to his feet. Pulling out his wallet, Stephen handed his credit card to Billy. “Get whatever you want. I’ll...I’ll be back later.”</p><p>He rushed out of the office and to the elevator.</p><p>The damn elevator.</p><p>When he arrived on the Pediactric floor, Stephen breathed a sigh of relief to see you at the nurses’ station. But you gave him the same look of sheer panic from earlier.</p><p>“I haven’t heard back regarding our neuro consult so we don’t need you,” you stammered.</p><p>“Did you hear back about...the other consult?”</p><p>“No, it’s going to take...time.”</p><p>“Did you complete a biopsy?” His eyes darted from you to the nurse at the desk.</p><p>Then back to you. And God, you were drilling your eyes into the counter like your life depended on it. </p><p>“Yes. No! I just...we don’t need you here, Doctor Strange.”</p><p>“Has she been like this all day?” he asked the nurse.</p><p>She shook her head.</p><p>“So this is just when I’m around?” He cocked an eyebrow.</p><p>“Doctor Strange. We do not need you on the Pediatric floor. Now, will you please leave? You’re a walking gremlin magnet.”</p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>You finally exhaled. </p><p>But only to suck in a breath when he yanked the flower crown from your head and put it on his own.</p><p>“Now, will you please tell me what is wrong with you?”</p><p>He raised his eyebrows.</p><p>You still wouldn’t look at him. He was wearing a goddamn flower crown and you weren’t even trying to get an image of this.</p><p>“...Or me? Did I do something? To upset you?”</p><p>“I have to finish some paperwork.” </p><p>You scuttled down the hallway, bringing your looming shadow with you.</p><p>If only it was Mia.</p><p>She wouldn’t ask to look at your flarking mole. Well, she’d probably ask if she could laser it off. And you might let her if it could get you out of this situation. </p><p>Oh, right. You made up the mole.</p><p>Stephen smacked his hand to your door before you could close it in his face.</p><p>Farts, you were really good at cornering yourself. </p><p>He closed the door and locked it behind him. Taking a seat at your desk, you pulled up your email and bore your eyes forward. As he stepped toward you, you held up a finger.</p><p>“Don’t you even dare. I’m pulling up confidential information.”</p><p>“What did I do wrong?”</p><p>You closed your eyes. Why was this happening? You could have dreamed about anyone. But it had to be…</p><p>“Doctor Strange,” you gulped. “There is nothing wrong. I just have a full schedule today.”</p><p>“You’re not even on the OR schedule.”</p><p>“You are so flarking stubborn!” You glared at him for a microsecond before gluing your eyes to your screen. “Will you just let me clean out my inbox in peace?”</p><p>“That’s your busy day? A date with your inbox?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Are you sick? Is this payback? Because I thought we were even a long time ago.”</p><p>“No, I just...flarg!”</p><p>Just as you tried to get up from your office chair, Stephen yanked on the back and spun you around. He placed his hands on the armrests and leaned forward.</p><p>You jerked back in a desperate attempt to not inhale his cologne. Eyes boring into the wall, you bit your lip.</p><p>“I’m not moving until you tell me what I did,” he said.</p><p>“Nothing! You did nothing.”</p><p>“Well, if it’s nothing, why can’t you look at me?”</p><p>He tilted his head to try to capture your gaze. But you squirmed in protest. In a brief moment of bravery (or was it stupidity?), you attempted to leap from the chair. </p><p>Rolling his eyes, Stephen wrapped his arms around your waist. He pressed your back to his chest and leaned in to whisper in your ear.</p><p>“What did Christine tell you?”</p><p>Gurgle. You were making gurgling noises from the back of your throat because apparently the language center of your brain shut down as the heat of his, well, everything was pressed against you.</p><p>Flork this neurosurgeon.</p><p>NO! </p><p>No florking. No florking of any kind!</p><p>“If I tell you,” you whined, “do you promise not to ever touch me again?”</p><p>“Even if you’re choking?” </p><p>“Doctor Strange!”</p><p>“Alright, fine.”</p><p>He let go and you spun around. </p><p>Rapidly blinking, you cleared your throat and glanced to the side. You could do this. You could words. But even you couldn’t lie to yourself and pretend that you could lie to him.</p><p>“I…”</p><p>“Yes…”</p><p>“I had a dream with you!”</p><p>Stephen furrowed his brow. “A dream?”</p><p>“Yes, a dream. Okay, now you can leave.”</p><p>You reached for the door but he grabbed your wrist. Tilting his head to the side, he narrowed his eyes.</p><p>“I was a complete asshole to you in this dream.”</p><p>“Yes,” you croaked. “The absolute worst and I’m still mad at you.”</p><p>“Oh my God.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You can’t lie for shit.”</p><p>“Just let me go,” you whined.</p><p>You yanked your wrist from him when he loosened his grip. Drawing in a breath, Stephen looked from his palm to your face. The palm that connected with yours just moments ago.</p><p>But your stomach dropped when a massive grin spread across his face. Plopping himself in your chair, he tapped his fingers against the armrest and leaned back.</p><p>“And what kind of a dream did you have, Doctor Sparkles? Surely not one that you can discuss out loud on the Pediatric floor.”</p><p>“I’m leaving.” </p><p>You spun around, freezing upon the sound of his voice. His stupid, florking voice.</p><p>“Was I any good?”</p><p>“DOCTOR STRANGE!”</p><p>You glared at him, trying to eviscerate him and that stupid flower crown on his stupid head. You were amazed it would even fit.</p><p>On his HEAD.</p><p>No, not that head! FUCK!</p><p>God, you were doomed.</p><p>“Don’t flatter yourself!” you snipped. “I once had an incredibly erotic dream with Balto but you don’t see me trying to, do the, you know with wolves!”</p><p>“The cartoon?”</p><p>Stephen rubbed his palms together. You were the gift that just kept on giving. </p><p>“YES! For a month, I couldn’t hear the word Iditarod without...UGH!”</p><p>“Ah, yes. Because I simply can’t survive a single day without saying Iditarod.”</p><p>“When you have a patient who wants to raise sled dogs, it’s more common than it ever should be.”</p><p>Puffing out your cheeks, you glared at him. Glared at him with all your might.</p><p>“It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just my brain sorting images and—”</p><p>“I know how dreams work. And I also know how little we know about them. But apparently there’s a part of my personality that you want for yourself. Me and Balto.”</p><p>“You only have one personality trait and that’s arrogance. I don’t think I need any of that.” You wrinkled your nose. “Now will you finally leave so I can bury myself in a hole?”</p><p>“Isn’t that my job?”</p><p>“DOCTOR STRANGE!”</p><p>Enjoying the pure agony painted across your face, Stephen rose to his feet. With an undeniable grin, he removed the flowers from his head. He leaned in, lingering just long enough for you to feel the heat of his breath across your neck.</p><p>“Call it the Strange Effect," he hummed.</p><p>As your eye spasmed, he pressed his lips to your cheek. Stephen set the crown back on your head and snickered to himself as he exited your office.</p><p>Thank God.</p><p>That certainly explained the dream he had on Valentine’s Day.</p><p>Let’s just say he wasn’t bending you over for the Heimlich once he fell asleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Stephen's First Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Tony, if this is an excuse to get me trapped in a hotel room with you, it’s a hard pass.”</p>
<p>You rolled your eyes, plopping on your couch next to Isaac. He draped his arm over your shoulder as you dismissed Tony’s pitch. </p>
<p>“Oh, Sparkles. I wouldn’t need to put together a biotech conference to make that dream a reality. No, this is legit.”</p>
<p>“Why are you doing this?” You narrowed your eyes. “What’s your angle?”</p>
<p>“I just…” Tony gestured to the presentation on your TV. “Did I not just walk you through the answer to that very question?”</p>
<p>Isaac nodded with a smirk. “You did. With a typo on Slide 5.”</p>
<p>“I swear, I proof-read this thing like twenty times.”</p>
<p>Tony clicked back to the alleged error. But squinting his eyes at the screen, he bit his lip. </p>
<p>“I don’t see a...oh, there it is. I believe it was supposed to say fuck you.”</p>
<p>He raised his eyebrows at Isaac’s shameless grin. </p>
<p>“Nah, man. Pass for me too. Damn, you’re 0 for 2 in two minutes. That’s gotta be a personal record.”</p>
<p>“You know, some people think I’m pretty cool? I could spend my time with literally anyone on the face of planet Earth and yet I’m here with you two.”</p>
<p>“It’s just because you’re dying to get inside my girlfriend’s pants. I should probably be more concerned. Except she can’t stand you.”</p>
<p>“You’d think she’d give me a chance. Considering she has horrible taste in men.”</p>
<p>“Point to Tony.” You smirked.</p>
<p>“Well, at least I’m scoring something.” Tony scratched his head before gesturing back to the screen. “What’s it going to take to get you to come to this thing?”</p>
<p>“How badly do you want me there?”</p>
<p>“Babe, he used PowerPoint. I think he’s pretty fucking desperate.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know how that’s supposed to impress me. Isn’t that a little low tech for you anyway?”</p>
<p>Tony leaned his head back and groaned. </p>
<p>“If you must know. I have an old machine that needs a little loving now and again or it gets lonely.”</p>
<p>You wrinkled your nose “Ew, do you have some old porn video on there?”</p>
<p>“God no! I transferred my collection years ago. Now, will you just give me the damn yes I’m looking for?”</p>
<p>“Just to be clear…” You leaned forward, peeling your body from Isaac. “You want me to speak on a panel at a biotech conference to help a bunch of nerds like you better understand what’s needed in the field?”</p>
<p>“And here I thought you, of all people, would be above name-calling.”</p>
<p>“How badly do you want me there, Tony?” You pouted your lip.</p>
<p>“I’m doing this to myself, aren’t I?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, man,” Isaac snickered. “This is all on you.”</p>
<p>“I want it bad, Sparkles. I want it so bad.”</p>
<p>“Why me?” You cocked an eyebrow.</p>
<p>“I want you to speak on patient care.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Yes, I’m dead serious.” He looked into your eyes. “I want you to tell us how we can make your job easier. That is the real reason. Now will you fast-forward to the part where you agree to go with me? Because it would suck to replace your name on all the promo material.”</p>
<p>“You’ll fly me out there?”</p>
<p>“Done.”</p>
<p>“You’re paying for all my meals.”</p>
<p>“As long as dinner with me is one of them.”</p>
<p>You rolled your eyes.</p>
<p>“You’ll owe me for this. One big, fat, juicy favor.”</p>
<p>“Blank check to you is hardly an obligation.”</p>
<p>“And I want to bring someone else.”</p>
<p>“And here I thought I was getting somewhere.”</p>
<p>Isaac wrapped his arm around your shoulder as you leaned back on the couch. He furrowed his brow and gave you a squeeze.</p>
<p>“I’ll go if you want. But you know I’m not good at these types of things.”</p>
<p>“Oh, no. I was, um...I was going to suggest Tony ask Doctor Strange to speak on his panel.”</p>
<p>“Sparkles, you are breaking my heart.”</p>
<p>“No! I’m being serious. He’s doing the most cutting edge surgeries in neuroscience. He would be an excellent candidate for something like this. That and he loves to hear himself talk. Much like someone else I know.”</p>
<p>“Know and love?”</p>
<p>“Know and love...to take advantage of.”</p>
<p>“Fine. But he’s booking his own plane ticket.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” You popped to your feet. “Thanks for stopping by Tony. I’ll see you in a few months.”</p>
<p>“Oh, you’ll see me before the conference, Sparkles. But I like your optimism.”</p>
<p>He pecked your cheek before throwing open your front door. But you both raised your eyebrows at the courier outside, fist raised and ready to knock.</p>
<p>“I just, I’m here to drop this off.” He shoved the parcel in Tony’s hands and handed him a clipboard. “I just need a signature.”</p>
<p>“I don’t even live here.”</p>
<p>“Whatever, man.”</p>
<p>Confirming the intended recipient was you, you scribbled a signature and took the package from Tony. The courier accepted the clipboard and gave you a nod.</p>
<p>“Dude, you look just like Tony Stark.”</p>
<p>“You are stoned out of your mind,” Tony snickered. “I look nothing like him.”</p>
<p>“Oh shit. You, you think my boss knows?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, man. She totally does.”</p>
<p>Grumbling to himself, the courier sulked down the hallway. Tony nodded to the parcel in your hands.</p>
<p>“What did you get me?” He wiggled his eyebrows. </p>
<p>Rolling your eyes, you started opening the brown wrapping.</p>
<p>“I thought you were leaving.”</p>
<p>“Well, sure. But now there are presents involved.”</p>
<p>Slumping on your couch, you tossed the paper aside to reveal the three-DVD set for…</p>
<p>Balto.</p>
<p>Balto II.</p>
<p>And Balto III.</p>
<p>“UGH!” </p>
<p>You tossed them on the coffee table and dashed to your room. </p>
<p>“Babe, you okay?” Isaac furrowed his brow. </p>
<p>When he saw your rejected gift, he chuckled to himself and examined the set. Tony wrestled with the wrapping to find the note.</p>
<p>
  <em> For your viewing pleasure. </em>
</p>
<p>“Doesn’t say who it’s from.” Tony shook his head. “What’s Sparkles got against the Iditarod?”</p>
<p>“Back in Baltimore, she had a patient who was determined to move to Alaska and raise sled dogs. I came home early from a concert in Chicago. Only to find out she wasn’t home. But was watching these with the kid all night.”</p>
<p>He tossed the movies back on the coffee table.</p>
<p>“Ever since then, she’s kinda had this th—”</p>
<p>“ISAAC! DON’T YOU DARE!”</p>
<p>You peeked into the living room. </p>
<p>“What, babe? It’s cute.”</p>
<p>“If you finish that sentence, I will KILL YOU!”</p>
<p>“Oh my God.” Tony crossed his arms and smirked. “You have a crush on an animated dog?”</p>
<p>But the only reply they received was your bedroom door slamming shut. </p>
<p>“Hey, man. Don’t give her a hard time for it,” Isaac requested. “I gave her shit for it for about a month. And I don’t think she’ll put up with it again. Especially from you.”</p>
<p>“Alright. But everything she put me through ten minutes ago was worth it for this.”</p>
<p>Tony tossed the note aside. </p>
<p>“Who’s she revealing all her sparkle-covered secrets to?”</p>
<p>“Probably Christine. I dunno. Girl talk.”</p>
<p>“Beastiality is one of my five favorite topics.”</p>
<p>“And the other four?”</p>
<p>“That’s between me, my therapist, and an old lady who owns a convenience store in Soho.”</p>
<p>As Isaac rolled his eyes with a laugh, you dashed out of your room with your pager in hand. </p>
<p>“Tony, I-I need you to take me to the hospital.”</p>
<p>“On it.” </p>
<p>“I’m sorry.” You wrapped your hand around Isaac’s face and gave him a quick kiss. "I'll call you as soon as I'm out."</p>
<p>In a blur, you dashed out the door with Tony right on your heels. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>After stabilizing Jacob’s seizure, you followed up with his parents as the boy rested. </p>
<p>Finally rested. </p>
<p>“We’ll have to wait and see if the double vision resolves on its own.”</p>
<p>“And if it doesn’t?” Dad asked.</p>
<p>“The tumor might be more advanced than the MRI initially revealed.”</p>
<p>“Operate,” Mom said. “Take out as much of it as you can.”</p>
<p>“At this point, surgery is an uncommon course of treatment. But I can certainly look and see how much can be removed.”</p>
<p>“And Doctor Strange, he’ll do the actual cutting?”</p>
<p>“Our neurosurgeon on call this weekend is Doctor West. I’ll be with him the whole time.”</p>
<p>“No, I want Strange. And I’m not waiting until Monday for him to get into the office. I’m not, I’m not making him wait.”</p>
<p>“I’ll do what I can to reach him.”</p>
<p>With a nod, you turned on your heel to call Stephen. The moment you came into view in the Pediatric lobby, Tony bolted to your side.</p>
<p>“What can I do?”</p>
<p>“You’re still here?”</p>
<p>“I’ll get you a car.”</p>
<p>“Tony, I intentionally live just over a mile away. A car is convenient. Especially when the weather sucks. But I can run here if absolutely necessary.” </p>
<p>You spun around and raised your eyebrows. </p>
<p>“Besides, you know Isaac would never let you buy him a car.”</p>
<p>Just as Tony opened his mouth to speak, a massive smile spread across your face. </p>
<p>“Doctor Strange,” you spoke into the phone. “How would you like to resect a brain stem glioma with me today?”</p>
<p>“Thank God. Be there in five.”</p>
<p>After ending the call, you smiled at Tony.</p>
<p>“Thanks for the ride. I appreciate you. I really do. Let me know what Doctor Strange says about the conference.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The answer is no.” You glared at Stephen as you scrubbed in for surgery. “You cannot play music.”</p>
<p>“I promise not to play a single song from Deception.”</p>
<p>“Then you have good taste.” </p>
<p>Stephen furrowed his brow as you received your gloves, gown and mask.</p>
<p>“Wait, you don’t like his music?”</p>
<p>“We’re not having this conversation. And certainly not now.”</p>
<p>In the OR, you leaned over to whisper in Jacob’s (unconscious) ear.</p>
<p>“You deserve better than this. You deserve so much more. But I promise you will receive the best possible care. You are in the most trustworthy hands.”</p>
<p>Acutely aware of the beating of his heart, Stephen shifted his weight and cleared his throat.</p>
<p>“Are you ready?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>You followed Stephen’s lead with perfect precision. </p>
<p>He missed this. He missed being in your OR.</p>
<p>But when Jacob Robinson’s brain stem was fully exposed, Stephen was admittedly grateful that the only sound he could hear was the gentle beeping of the monitors. You too held your breath at the sight. </p>
<p>This tumor.</p>
<p>This tumor was smart, engenius even. Almost as if it knew who it was up against. </p>
<p>You clenched your jaw as Stephen tilted his head for a different angle. Just as he started calculating possible first cuts, your voice sliced through the air.</p>
<p>“We’re closing,” you ordered.</p>
<p>“No, I can do this.” </p>
<p>His eyes never left the tumor. </p>
<p>The beautiful, brilliant tumor. </p>
<p>“The best case scenario is that you paralyze him. The worst case is you kill him with your first cut.”</p>
<p>“You pose a philosophical question. Best case or worst case might be subjective in those examples.”</p>
<p>“Every second he’s open, he’s at unnecessary risk for infection. The risk is too high. We’re closing.”</p>
<p>“If I enter by the optic tract…”</p>
<p>“Doctor Strange.”</p>
<p>“But the trigeminal nerve…”</p>
<p>You inched closer to him. “I will not have this boy pay the price for your hubris.”</p>
<p>“But you will let him pay for your incompetence?”</p>
<p>Your heart. </p>
<p>Your goddamn heart. </p>
<p>You learned years ago that in the OR, your heart had one job.</p>
<p>It moved blood from the right atrium to the right ventricle. From the right ventricle to the lungs. From the lungs to the left atrium. From the left atrium to the left ventricle. Then it moved blood from the aortic valve and through the rest of your body. </p>
<p>In the OR, your heart had one job.</p>
<p>Your heart pumped blood.</p>
<p>“Doctor Strange, if you cannot keep your emotions in check, I will have you removed from my OR.”</p>
<p>“My emotions? You’re the one who’s getting unnecessarily protective. Stand back and let me do my job. I can get Doctor West to assist me.”</p>
<p>You stared at him. You stared at him as he fell in love with an impossible problem to solve, unconcerned with the collateral damage of his affair.</p>
<p>“You’re just intimidated,” Stephen grumbled. “And I’m not talking about the tumor.” </p>
<p>“Who’s name is on this case file?” </p>
<p>“Are you really pulling rank on me? Is your argument so thin you have to rely on paperwork to get what you want?”</p>
<p>“This isn’t about what I want. It’s what my patient needs. He is, by all records, my patient. Now, are you going to close for me or leave? Because you are done here, Doctor Strange.”</p>
<p>With a clank of metal to metal, you had your answer. Stephen glared at you as if his gaze alone could tell you just how wrong you were.</p>
<p>He abandoned your OR with the image of the tumor seared into his brain.</p>
<p>He was going to figure it out. He was going to beat that tumor. Regardless of your ability to believe in him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t understand,” Mom’s voice cracked. “You didn’t operate? Doctor Strange didn’t operate?”</p>
<p>“As suspected, the tumor was more advanced than the MRI showed. The risk level for surgery was too high.”</p>
<p>“And that was his opinion?”</p>
<p>“No, that was mine.”</p>
<p>“What kind of risk?” Dad asked.</p>
<p>“From blindness to paralysis to death. Due to the brain stem’s role in vital functions, surgery would, in my opinion, be negligent. I recommend radiation or chemotherapy at this point. I can refer you to oncology.”</p>
<p>“You told us we had time.” Mom pointed her finger. “You said that we had time to decide. This all happened in the past few days?”</p>
<p>“It’s true that the tumor is aggressive in its growth. But this wasn’t a result of a few days. The scans didn’t show the extent—”</p>
<p>“I’m done listening to your opinion. Where is Doctor Strange? I want to know his thoughts.”</p>
<p>“Doctor Strange doesn’t consult on cases like this. I was lucky to even get him in the OR with me.”</p>
<p>“I don’t care what you have to do to get him here. I want his opinion.”</p>
<p>“You are most welcome to get a second opinion. In fact, I recommend it. Because you are not likely to find a surgeon who is willing to—”</p>
<p>“I don’t want a second opinion. I want his.”</p>
<p>Sucking in a breath, your eyes flickered to Dad. But he only gulped and stared at the floor. Mom narrowed her eyes at you.</p>
<p>“Do you have children?” she asked. </p>
<p>“No, I—”</p>
<p>“My son does not get to make up for your personal emptiness. You might look cute walking around these hallways with your flowers and cheery attitude. But there is more to being a parent than positive affirmations and glitter crafts. It is my job to protect him. It has been my job from the moment he came to this earth. It’s not yours. It’s mine. So if you don’t tell me how to contact Doctor Strange, I will find him myself.”</p>
<p>Right ventricle to lungs. Lungs to left atrium. Left atrium to left ventricle. Left ventricle to body. </p>
<p>“I will ask him to consult you personally.”</p>
<p>“Thank you for finally doing your damn job.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Cold as Ice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the passenger seat of Stephen’s car, Christine crossed her arms and glared out the window. The city always moved faster with Stephen at the wheel.</p><p>“You stole a case from her.”</p><p>“I didn’t steal anything,” he groaned. “It was given to me.”</p><p>“Oh? And you’re someone who just takes what comes your way now?”</p><p>Stephen glanced at her before returning his attention to the road.</p><p>“Are you taking her side?”</p><p>“No, I’m taking his. He’s got a grade 4 brain stem glioma. The kid needs chemotherapy and a hug. Not two surgeons fighting over him.”</p><p>Stephen rolled his eyes. “You sound just like her.”</p><p>“I bet you like that.”</p><p>“What is that supposed to mean?”</p><p>“Nothing.” </p><p>Christine resumed glaring out the window, choosing to contribute silence for the rest of the drive.</p><p>When they arrived at the restaurant, Stephen pulled up to the valet station. He lowered his window as the valet peered inside.</p><p>“Keys?” </p><p>“Nice try,” Stephen scoffed. “Where do I park it?”</p><p>“Follow me.” </p><p>Grumbling, the valet stood upright and led Stephen around the corner. Stephen shifted in his seat and nodded to Christine.</p><p>“You look nice tonight. And I mean that.”</p><p>“Can you really help this kid?”</p><p>“He needs to learn how to shave. But I hardly think that’s reason for a surgical—”</p><p>“Not the valet, Stephen. Your patient.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t take the case if I couldn’t.”</p><p>Stephen studied Christine’s face. With a sigh, he pulled into a parking spot and looked her in the eyes.</p><p>“It’s not about the politics. She’s not open to other possible solutions because she’s too attached.”</p><p>“And where do you stand? On the attachment scale?”</p><p>“You know, this isn’t how I wanted the situation to end up either.”</p><p>“Oh, is that so?” she asked, sarcasm dripping from her lips.</p><p>“Christine…”</p><p>“Stephen…”</p><p>His jaw ticked. How did he successfully manage to infuriate the two most significant women in his life with a single stride? He wasn’t sure whose expression he detested more. Why wouldn’t either of you let him do his damn job?</p><p>Stephen’s eyes flickered to her heels and back to her face.</p><p>“I was supposed to let you out back there.”</p><p>“At least you noticed this time.”</p><p>She threw open the door and exited the car.</p><p>While Stephen and Christine silently ate dinner across from each other, you sat at your kitchen table scrolling through your laptop. Isaac took the empty plate next to you and raised his eyebrows. </p><p>“I’ll take care of the dishes tonight?”</p><p>“Great,” you murmured, eyes glued to your fifth paper of the evening on pediatric brain stem gliomas.</p><p>“You know, you’re going to have to take a break from that eventually.”</p><p>“I’m fine, Isaac. Why don’t you, I don’t know, fire up the Xbox or something. Just wear headphones and don’t scream at the TV.”</p><p>“Is this something you should ask Tony about?”</p><p>“Tony can slice up himself. But he’s not coming near this kid.”</p><p>“Okay, okay. I’m just trying to help.”</p><p>“But I don’t need your help, Isaac!” You slammed your laptop closed. “You always do this where you try to be the genius to figure out my cases. But which one of us went to medical school? Oh, that’s right. ME. You don’t know what you’re talking about and what I need is for you to just leave me alone!”</p><p>“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. You’re going to throw your degree in my face? When it’s the guy with the MD and PhD who’s been pissing you off all week. I’m no shrink. But I think you’re misdirecting your feelings.”</p><p>“It’s not ‘degree’. It’s degrees.” You shoved out your chair and threw your laptop in your bag.  “And you’re lucky that’s all I decided to throw in your face. Considering—”</p><p>But you snapped your jaw shut, choosing to swallow the unspoken words.</p><p>“I...I’m sorry,” you croaked.</p><p>Isaac crossed his arms and looked down.</p><p>“When will you be back?”</p><p>“I don’t know.”</p><p>“Look at you. All that fancy education and you never learned how to tell time.”</p><p>You slammed the door closed, leaving your apartment and your boyfriend behind. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Later that week, you cautiously examined a ten-year-old’s abdomen in the ER. You could barely apply pressure before she was writhing in pain.</p><p>“Ow! That hurts!”</p><p>“I’m sorry, sweetie,” you cooed. “We’re going to make you feel just fine. How does that sound?”</p><p>She gave you a nod, granting you permission to turn to Mom.</p><p>“She’s got appendicitis. We’ll complete an appendectomy and she should be good to go. Ideally, won’t even have to stay the night.”</p><p>“She’s going to be okay?” Mom asked.</p><p>“Yes, I’ll have a nurse prep her for surgery and I’ll walk you through the procedure.”</p><p>After the formalities were complete, Christine assisted you inside the OR. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” she whispered.</p><p>“You have nothing to apologize for, Christine.”</p><p>“He’s going to do it. He’s going to save this kid.”</p><p>“Jacob asked if he could keep his tumor in a jar.”</p><p>“That’s against our biohazard policy.”</p><p>“I told him we’d make him a surrogate tumor in a jar. But now...”</p><p>“He’ll get the tumor in the jar. I promise you.”</p><p>“I can close, Christine. Thank you for your help.”</p><p>This routine appendectomy was exactly what you needed. No music, no complications, and no arrogant neurosurgeons. A successful surgery by all counts. </p><p>When you exited the OR, you checked your phone to see a text message from Tony, instantly bursting your blissful bubble.</p><p>As if this week hadn’t been painful enough, you rolled your eyes before storming to the neurology floor. Stomping right past Billy, you threw open the door to Stephen’s office.</p><p>“I always knew you were an arrogant jackass. But I never took you for an idiot.”</p><p>“What did I tell you, Billy?” Stephen grumbled, eyes transfixed on the most recent MRI scans for Jacob.</p><p>But the nurse only stood in the doorway and gulped. </p><p>“You’re blowing off this conference because you’re so occupied being a jerk to me?”</p><p>“You do think highly of yourself. Aren’t you exhausted making decisions for everyone else? The wrong decisions, I might add.”</p><p>“This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”</p><p>“Unlike you, I don’t need to entertain Tony Stark to feel good about myself. But does it make you happy when he pats you on the head?”</p><p>“Oh, fuck you. This isn’t even about Tony or Stark Industries. Some of the top biomedical companies in the world will be there. And they want to hear from you.”</p><p>“And you’re so insistent I go because you suddenly care about my opinion?”</p><p>“I am begging you. Transfer Jacob to oncology.”</p><p>“Ah, so you finally made it to why you’re really here.”</p><p>“They might be able to give him a few more months.”</p><p>“And I can give him his life back.”</p><p>Your mouth hung open. “Doctor Strange...you and I both know it’s impossible to remove a glioma in the pons. And especially this glioma. You and I both saw it.”</p><p>“I will find a way.”</p><p>“We are not gods! We are people. Flawed but brilliantly skilled people. And if you can’t see where your humanity ends or begins—”</p><p>“This lecture feels a little recycled. Is this what you told Tony Stark?”</p><p>Biting your lip, you picked and your nails and glanced down. You always knew when you were going to lose an argument. </p><p>“Doctor Strange,” you gulped, even as he returned his attention to the scans. “When you explain the procedure to him, whatever you’re going to, make it thorough.”</p><p>“He’s eight. He won’t understand a thing.”</p><p>“Jacob is a scientist. He wants to know all the details. Even if he has to learn them. In fact, that’s actually his favorite part.” </p><p>You strode out of his office without another word.</p><p>Every ounce of Stephen’s mental focus went to that tumor. His eating grew sparse and sleeping habits even worse. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw either you or the tumor. And he’d infinitely rather focus his attention on the real scans.</p><p>When you nibbled away at his thought process, voice echoing in his mind on the rare occasion, Stephen shoved you aside and buried himself in research, reports, and the confines of his own mind.</p><p>Was he doing this more to prove himself right? Or to prove you wrong? He didn’t even know anymore.</p><p>Billy cracked the door open and peered through.</p><p>“Stephen, it’s time.”</p><p>“No, I’m fine. I can figure this out. I just, I just need more time.”</p><p>“You were the one who told me to—”</p><p>“I remember what I said and I’m taking it back.”</p><p>“Then you’ll also remember that you told me, under no circumstances—especially your own—were you to sleep at your desk for three nights in a row. Go home. Get some sleep. In a real bed.”</p><p>“I told you, I’m fine.”</p><p>“I will call her.”</p><p>“Christine already knows I’m working. She’s not going to—”</p><p>“Not Christine, Stephen.”</p><p>Stephen scowled. “I don’t understand...”</p><p>“I will call her and tell her that you need her help. That you can’t figure this out on your own and that you said you were wrong.”</p><p>“She won’t even believe you.”</p><p>“Stephen, go home.”</p><p>Clenching his jaw, Stephen swallowed his next words and, to Billy’s surprise, gathered his papers and scans. He sped through the night to his apartment, grateful that Christine hadn’t moved in yet. No matter how much he danced around the subject, unsure of why she wouldn’t just ask.</p><p>Staring at his ceiling in the darkness, Stephen pressed his palms to his forehead.</p><p>This tumor.</p><p>He couldn’t unsee this tumor.</p><p>But he had to. He had to if he was actually going to, going to…</p><p>
  
</p><p>With a gasp, Stephen’s eyes flew open to a dimly lit room. </p><p>He sat in a single wooden chair in front of an illuminated stage. The gentle red glow reflected from his enlarged pupils, desperately trying to drink in their surroundings to answer the question…</p><p>Where am I?</p><p>There wasn’t another person in sight. The silence was unsettling. </p><p>That was, until <em> Cold as Ice </em> by Foreigner started playing through the speakers.</p><p>Stephen snapped his gaze back to stage to see a metal pole...with you standing right next to it.</p><p>Oh, God. </p><p>He was at a strip club. He was at a strip club by himself. Well, aside from you...of course.</p><p>Of course...it had to be you.</p><p>In a maroon robe and bare legs, you took a few steps toward him. Stephen clenched his fists as you eyed with him a dangerous look.</p><p>“Back so soon, Mister Strange?”</p><p>“Doctor. It’s Doctor Strange.”</p><p>“Now, now,” you cooed, reaching the edge of the stage to stand in front of him. “What did I tell you last time?”</p><p>Last time?</p><p>There was a last time?</p><p>Placing your hands on your knees, you leaned over and cocked an eyebrow. But when you only received a gaping mouth in return, you threw yourself upright. </p><p>Biting your lip, you pressed the ball of your foot to Stephen's chest to force him farther back in his chair. </p><p>“I don’t need you to be a doctor here…” </p><p>“But just a man,” he breathed.</p><p>“Nothing more, nothing less. Your titles are useless to me.”</p><p>His gaze trailed from your foot, up your leg, and to your eyes. But when his hands hovered over your ankle, you retracted with a hiss.</p><p>“Mister Strange. You know the rules.”</p><p>Right, no touching.</p><p>“If I were in a different line of work,” you hummed, “I ought to punish you. I’m sure you look beautiful with no sense of control.”</p><p>You sauntered back to the pole, wrapping your hands around it and leaning back. Stephen didn’t need to be a neurosurgeon to appreciate the divine curvature of the arc in your spine. But it certainly did help.</p><p>“What are you really here for, Mister Strange?” You threw your head upright. “Surely, it’s not to see me.”</p><p>“I let you down.”</p><p>“Because you still haven’t told that dreamy girlfriend about me? Maybe you ought to bring her next time.”</p><p>“I proved to you that I’m everything you thought I was.”</p><p>You watched his eyes linger on your hands as you rubbed your sash between your thumb and index finger.</p><p>“Arrogant, selfish, and brilliant,” you mocked. “Do you deserve me?” </p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Finally. An honest man.”</p><p>Deftly unleashing your sash, you drank in his expression as you robe fell to the stage.</p><p>Stephen held his breath, taking in the sight of your cobalt lingerie. Sparkling, of course. But what most intrigued him was the marquise cut emerald along your collarbone, dangling from a golden chain.</p><p>You wrapped your hands around the pole above your head. </p><p>Yes, mesmerized was a beautiful look for him too.</p><p>But even as you slowly, achingly sank to the stage, Stephen bit his lip and looked away.</p><p>You snapped upright.</p><p>“I was right.”</p><p>“Yes,” he murmured. “You were.”</p><p>“About just how much?”</p><p>“All of it.”</p><p>“You’re not here to see me.” </p><p>“No, I’m here to talk to you.”</p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>With a gentle gust of air, Stephen was in a private room. All surfaces within sight were softened with lavender velvet, candlelight, and overflowing peonies. </p><p>And you, well, you were straddling his lap on a plush loveseat. Although you propped yourself upright on your knees to deny him all contact with your body.</p><p>“You’re here to talk,” you ordered. “Talk.”</p><p>Fisting the sheepskin throw underneath him, Stephen gulped.</p><p>“I can’t do it. I can’t find a way.”</p><p>“But you made promises.”</p><p>“Promises I can’t keep.”</p><p>“I don’t understand what you expect me to do for you.”</p><p>“Please...help me.”</p><p>“How? How am I supposed to help you, Mister Strange.” </p><p>You leaned in, pressing your hands to the back of the loveseat.</p><p>“I’m just the stripper you visit when you’re too lonely to be with yourself or your girlfriend.”</p><p>“I-I am so sorry.”</p><p>He tenderly placed his hand to the side of your face. But his eyes widened when his senses confirmed that you were, well, cold as ice.</p><p>“There you go breaking our one rule.” You placed your hand over his and kissed his palm. “You know you’re not allowed to touch me.”</p><p>Stephen jolted awake to the darkness of his bedroom.</p><p>“Brachytherapy,” he whispered.</p><p>Then dashed out the door.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Brave Boys Get Brachytherapy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is not real medicine. But it sure is based on it lol xD</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tangled in your sheets and Isaac’s arms, you squeezed your eyes even tighter and whimpered at the pounding on your front door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tony, you already proved to us that tacos taste better at 2 am. Go away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think he can hear you from here,” Isaac murmured onto your neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s your friend. Fix this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fumbling out of bed, Isaac dragged his feet to the front door. But he blinked a few times to confirm the hazy vision of Stephen standing in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to talk to her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isaac started to close the door. But Stephen smacked his palm to the wood to force it open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s about the kid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah, I know the mess you started. And you’re the last person she wants to talk to. Even after she made a spot for you at that conference and everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Made a spot?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, she wouldn’t agree to go unless you went with her. Fucking waste too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shoving his shoulder against Isaac’s, Stephen marched into your apartment. But you spared him the indignity of searching for you when you groaned yourself into the living room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hands buried in the pocket of your Hopkins hoodie, you squinted at the light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, we’ll go. But only because I’m florking starv—Doctor Strange.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brachytherapy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I fucking hate you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you turned to crawl back to your bedroom, Stephen rushed to you. His hands hesitated over your shoulders. But, shaking off the effects of sleep, he spun you around to face him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll bring the radiation to him. Place catheters around the glioma to deliver the radiation seeds so they can kill the tumor. Even the parts that are surgically inaccessible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t have to touch the tumor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And this enlightenment required a 2 am house call because…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need a sounding board.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then talk to a wall. I’m sure you’ll find the echo quite comforting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come with me. I still have to strategize where to place the catheters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isaac scowled and put his hands on his hips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, get the fuck out of here. You are not whisking away my girlfriend to talk medicine at 2 in the morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s not like she can do it with you,” Stephen gloated before redirecting his attention to you. “You know it’s not as effective formulating in a vacuum.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, do I know that? Even me, Tony Stark’s pet dog? He gave me a leash but I prefer not to wear it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hear me out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that? I think I hear CNN. Doctor Stephen Strange can’t do it all on his own? It’s the greatest tragedy to befall on all of modern medicine!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One hour. Give me one hour of your time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get Billy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Why would I...It’s 2 am. And he’s not a surgeon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then get your girlfriend. Pretty sure she’s more conveniently accessible than I am at 2 in the morning. What did she think of you running out of your place in the middle of the night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one knows this case like you do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms and glared at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want me to listen to you genius yourself to your own solution?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just need to talk this through with a competent person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why is that I’m only capable when it’s convenient for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Biting his lip, Stephen glanced down and drew in a breath. After a hard swallow, he cautiously returned his gaze to you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I shouldn't have said what I said.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what exactly did you say to her?” Isaac narrowed his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Stephen only gritted his teeth and stared at you. You examined his expression with a scrutinizing gaze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only if you say it,” you scoffed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say...say what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are many words you owe me, Doctor Strange. If you could set your ego aside for one goddamn second, I have faith that even you can figure this one out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need your help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen wasn’t sure if he should feel relief or apprehension as the slightest smirk spread across your lips. What he did know—a true scientist, after all—was that his heart was hammering away inside his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” You snatched your wallet and keys from the coffee table. “You get as long as it takes to drive me to a taco stand and back. Clock's ticking, Strange.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the stale city air soaring across Stephen’s car, his jaw ticked as he gripped the steering wheel even tighter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The mammillary bodies,” he thought aloud. “If I insert them at the—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would put too much pressure on the optic tract.” </span>
  <span>You held the scans to the ceiling light. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not with a steady hand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll blind him. Next.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen cleared his throat. “Next to the cerebral peduncle. At a sixty degree angle, I could—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sever his oculomotor nerve? Excellent idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you being like this because you’re mad at me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m being like this because you’re wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a hard swallow, Stephen pulled over as his gaze flickered to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could freehand it. With a needle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are out of your goddamn mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A needle would be precise enough to allow me entrance here, here, and here.” He pointed to the scans. “It would save him a surgery too. Instead of one to place the catheters and one to implant the radiation seeds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s got, what? A thirty percent chance of surviving that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With me, it’s up to forty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor Strange…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He plucked the scan from your hand and tossed it in the back seat. Wrapping his hand around your shoulder, he turned you to face him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You and I both know that this is his one shot. If I don’t operate, his mother is going to spend the last few months of his life dragging him to every neurosurgeon across the country.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is Peds, Doctor Strange. You have to be effective at managing expectations for parents even more than the patients. Because it’s the adults who get blinded by emotions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not blinded by emotion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but you are running rampant with your hubris. It’s your responsibility to advocate for his best interest as a medical professional.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that’s what I’m doing. Right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you trying to convince me you can do this? You know you can. You know his parents are going to let you do whatever you promise because they’ve already convinced themselves you’re a god. If you recall, my opinion doesn’t matter to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At his pained expression, you crossed your arms and leaned back in your seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just take me back home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t you say you were hungry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’m more exhausted than anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen closed his eyes and drew in a breath. He pulled onto the road and, as requested, returned you to your apartment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...And your boyfriend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before closing the passenger door, you ducked to give him one last look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For what it’s worth, which I know isn’t much, if anyone can do it, it’s you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sigh, you gently closed the door and returned home. Already dreading your alarm going off in three hours.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Later that morning, you exited a patient room with your chest covered in glitter. You struggled to find the piece stuck to your tongue on your way to the nurse’s station. But your eyes widened to see Stephen waiting for you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor Strange.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You set your clipboard on the counter and started scribbling some notes, refusing to meet his unrelenting gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m operating tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Congratulations. I’m sure you and the glioma will be very happy together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m giving his parents a consult this afternoon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They better begin the ritualistic sacrifice to Neuro God Strange right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen drew in a breath and held it for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I just...Billy booked a conference room on the second floor. I’ll walk his parents through the surgery. In thorough detail. Both of them. At 2 pm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You froze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just,” he cleared his throat, “thought you might be interested to know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time you looked up, Stephen already had his back to you as he walked down the hallway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At 2:05 pm, you crept through the neurology floor and peered into Jacob’s room. He sat upright in his hospital bed with a stack of papers and a laptop on the tray table in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face lit up the moment you came into view.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does any of this mean?” He waved the papers at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Furrowing your brow, you plucked the report from his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” you mused. “This is the National Institutes of Health’s latest report on various catheters used in brachytherapy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that. I can read the front page. But the rest is too...too…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Complex?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It makes me feel stupid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jacob.” You set the paper aside and sat on the edge of his bed. “You are many things. Inquisitive, analytical, unafraid of the grossest parts of human existence. But stupid certainly is not one of them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t understand what they’re going to do to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that feels?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gulped and looked away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scary.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a very brave thing you just said. Most adults don’t know how to say they’re scared. Would you like me to walk you through it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breathing an overdue exhale, you readjusted and smiled at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor Strange is going to take a needle—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How big?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You gave him your best estimate with your fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adequate?” You cocked an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Depends on what he’s doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, he’s going to use that needle to deliver radioactive seeds directly to your brain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What type of radiation?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Iodine.” You wrote ‘I-131’ on top of the report and slid it over to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to look this up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. You’re getting what they call a low-dose rate. Or LDR. They’ll keep the seeds in your brain for up to seven days. Then evaluate the effect on the tumor and go from there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How many times will I have to do this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not entirely sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jacob smirked. “And that feels…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uncomfortable.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then you’re brave too.” He started typing ‘Iodine I-131’ into the search bar, one key at a time. “What are my chances of dying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jacob…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one will tell me. I looked up grade 4 brain stem gliomas. So I know I have a few months. I already told a friend she could have my microscope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sucked in a breath as Jacob hit enter and studied the search results.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But for this operation,” he continued, “I just want a number.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your breath caught in your throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sixty percent,” you croaked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jacob’s eyes widened. “I should write care instructions for my parents about Todd.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Todd is...your snake?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gecko. But close.” He leaned back and smiled at you. “You know, if I grew up, I’d want to be a mortician.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will have excellent job security.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’d get to spend most of my time with dead people. Sounds more fun than working at an office like my mom. But I guess I’m going to do that anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He furrowed his brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you let me haunt you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’ll be the one haunting you. And I didn’t take you as one to believe in ghosts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can only know what I can touch, taste, see, feel, and hear. After I’m dead, who am I to say what happens?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, we’ll all find out one day. But that’s a ways off for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said yourself...sixty percent. And I know you wouldn’t lie to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, you wouldn’t. Not to this boy. Not for this case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor Strange is the best there is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what everyone keeps saying. But he’s the one who gave me that stupid report.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He doesn’t have the best people skills.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither do I.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I’d much rather be trapped in an elevator with you than Doctor Strange.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Biting the inside of his cheek, Jacob pursed his lips before looking back at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why aren’t you operating on me? Why did they move me? My parents won’t tell me the real reason.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your parents, um, they didn’t want me working on your case anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” He rolled his eyes. “Sexism, I get it. I mean, not personally. But I can read between the lines.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to be a great mortician, Jacob.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You rose to your feet and smiled at him, blinking back any evidence of your own emotion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I, um, have a flower?” he asked. “You know, just in case.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You untangled one from your head and handed it to him. He tucked it underneath his covers, clutching onto it for dear life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I’ll get superpowers from the radiation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You already have superpowers, Jacob. But I hope this operation gives you everything you need and more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After pressing a kiss to his forehead, you made your way to his door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give Doctor Strange a hard time for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After that,” he said, pointing to the report, “I’ll do it for both of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are my hero, Jacob.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So are you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You patted his doorway three times before escaping his view, feeling the ever-present pounding of your heart as you headed to Stephen’s office.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. The Limited Humanity of Doctor Stephen Strange</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Readjusting your crown, you walked down the hallway to Stephen’s office. But halfway there, your breath caught in your throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What were you doing? What were you even going to say? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turning on your heel, you mumbled your way in the direction of the elevator. But surely the doors would open to reveal him at any moment. You resorted to the stairs instead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Half a flight up to the pediatric floor, your eyes widened at the steady rhythm of someone walking to the floor you just left. Peering over the banister, you confirmed your suspicions to see Stephen looking up at you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At the landing to the neurology floor, he pointed to the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Didn’t want you to get stuck in the elevator with me,” he cleared his throat, “Since we know how that went last time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When is, when is his operation?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seven.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And his parents...they know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, thirty percent chance of survival. She was still insistent.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You covered your ass, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Paper trail is ironclad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a hard swallow, you gave him a nod. Just as Stephen wrapped his hand around the door handle, you rushed next to him and…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You forced your arms to your sides and gulped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, Doctor Strange.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stephen's eyes followed you as you raced to the pediatric floor, wishing he had the courage to be a bit more like you.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Time slowed for the rest of the day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While Stephen prepared himself by practicing the procedure, you buried yourself in paperwork. It was definitely a paperwork kind of day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By evening, the night nurse peered into your office. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you’re still here.” He furrowed his brow. “I just thought you left the light on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You checked your watch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>7:12 pm</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be here this evening. If there’s anything you need—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you eaten yet?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, no.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you need to get something to eat, might be a good time to take a break.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugged and left the door open. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a sigh, you rose to your feet to close it and resume budgeting bonuses for your people. You’d eat later. You’d eat eventually. Surely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As you ignored the roaring of your stomach, Stephen stood behind Jacob in the OR. His eyes flickered to the boy’s ear. But the surgeon simply blinked a few times, at an utter loss for words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Billy gave him a nod.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ready?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Stephen swallowed. “Let’s begin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time Jacob’s tumor was exposed, you successfully avoided four calls from Isaac. But upon the fifth, you groaned and succumbed to your fate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have to stay late,” you answered. “I already texted you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. I just...I feel like you’ve been avoiding me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t do this now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not in the OR. I can tell. Forget your paperwork and come home. We can talk this out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Isaac…” You dragged your hand down your face. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me how I can fix this. Please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll figure this out. Together. I promise. I just, I need some time. Don’t wait up for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You ended the call and tossed your phone aside. Resting your elbows on your desk, you removed your flower crown and set it on top of your files. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Time…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>...It was mocking you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But, completely captive to its omnipotent presence, you occupied yourself by staring at the open spot in your flower crown. You plucked the petals from one of the blossoms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then the next…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And the next…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And the next… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Until your crown was completely void of all color. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Staring at the barren stems and wires, you sucked in a breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flarg, this was getting absurd. What were you even waiting for anyway? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You yanked your office phone off the line. Pressing it to your ear, you started dialing the number for OR 2. But you stopped a digit short and hung up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, you weren’t going to check in on Jacob’s surgery. You didn’t need to manage a surgeon, a world-renowned surgeon no less. It was simply...unprofessional.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, you surrendered to the arduous task of waiting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You cleaned the petals from your desk. You organized all the files on your computer and emails in your inbox. You scrounged for a Q-tip in some God-forsaken drawer in your desk and cleaned every nook and cranny of your keyboard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just as you were desperate enough to pull out the glitter, your pager rang for your attention. A quick glance confirmed your suspicions. Breath caught in your throat, you rushed to the OR.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This. This is what you were waiting for.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As you ran to the sink to scrub in, Billy rushed over to you. He set his hands on your shoulders and drew in a breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We don’t need you to scrub in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t need me to scrub in?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We…” He looked down. “We don’t need you to scrub in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Billy, what am I walking into?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Holding your breath, you cautiously entered the OR as your heart pounded within the walls of your chest…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>...Only to be met by the single sound of a flatline.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As if frozen in time, Stephen stood behind Jacob and stared at the tumor. A few nurses shifted about as you hesitantly approached him and sucked in a breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doctor Strange?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His jaw ticked as he furrowed his brow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Billy put his hands on his hips and shook his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We removed all the radiation seeds. We just...we can’t get him to close. They need to, to take him to the morgue.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Has he called it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You returned your gaze to Stephen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You need to call it. It’s your name on his file.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he didn’t respond, you looked at Billy and drew in a breath. Dismissing the tightening in your chest, your eyes flickered to the clock.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Time of death 23:49.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You turned off the monitor, allowing silence to slice through the air. With a healer’s touch, you placed your fingers over Stephen’s wrist as a silent request for him to disarm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you do it?” he asked, uttering his first word since...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do I do what?” your voice cracked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You removed the needle from his hand and set it aside, followed by his glasses and mask as he refused to look at you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you live with yourself after you’ve killed them?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He finally turned his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Releasing an exhale, you grabbed Stephen and pushed him away from Jacob’s body. But he stumbled to the wall, pressing his back against it and sinking to the floor. Leaning down with his descent, you tightened your grip around his shoulders and bore your eyes into his.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doctor Strange.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were right. You told me not to...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doctor Strange.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought, I really thought—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You struck him across the face, inciting the entire room to hold their breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stephen Strange, you do not get to fall apart right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wha-what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You haven’t finished your damn job. There are two people, two loving people who are in complete agony waiting to hear if their son is going to survive this surgery. And you have to relieve them of the pain of waiting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t do this. I can’t, can’t tell them I...he was eight. He was only eight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This,” you swallowed, “is Peds, Doctor Strange.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You wrapped your hands around the sides of his face and forced his gaze to you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will close for you but you are the only one who can tell the Robinsons what happened in this OR. Do you understand me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He slammed his eyes closed. “Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“After you talk to them, Billy will take you back to your office. I will meet you there when I am done.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were right. This whole time you were—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you feel yourself drifting, mentally recite the way blood flows through the heart. Now get out of here before I completely lose it too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With all your strength—and you needed all of it—you yanked Stephen upright and sent him off with Billy. Stephen started muttering under his breath as he removed his scrub cap.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right atrium to right ventricle...right ventricle to lungs…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clenching your jaw, you positioned yourself behind Jacob. After three firm blinks, you retrieved your surgical tools to close the curtain on the tumor that defeated Doctor Stephen Strange.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Truthfully, all you could do was move through the motions. Just as your heart moved blood through your body.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Jacob was in pristine condition, you cut the final thread and set aside the scissors. You walked in front of him to wrap your hands along the sides of his face. Pressing your forehead to his, you drew in a breath and closed your eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can haunt me for the rest of my life,” you breathed. “In fact, I insist on it, sweet boy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You said goodbye with a single kiss pressed to the top of his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In a daze, you stumbled out of the OR, to the elevator, and through the front door of the neurology office. Stephen sat on the edge of the couch with his elbows on his knees and hands in his hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You cleared your throat and nodded to Billy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Call Christine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Stephen blurted out, staring at you with wide eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not driving like this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t, you can’t call her. She can’t know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? Of course she’s going to find out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Stephen only shook his head with the conviction that made his name. Furrowing your brow, you nodded to Billy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go home. Get some sleep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve got him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Billy exited the office, exchanging a sorrowful glance with you as his goodbye. You sat on the couch next to Stephen and rested your hand on his knee.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not spending the night alone. And you’re certainly not doing it here. Let me call her to pick you up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She has one foot out the door. I can feel it. She’ll leave me for this and I’m not…” He pursed his lips and swallowed. “I’m not ready to lose her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You and I both know that’s not true.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stay with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know I can’t do that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because you just said, you and your girlfriend are in a rough patch and this is exactly the time to not lock yourself in your office with another woman all night.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I, I’m so sor—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Call her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As you rose to your feet, Stephen wrapped his hand around your wrist. He allowed you to slip through his fingers until he was clutching your fingertips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He, he’s picking you up?” He cleared his throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Your eyes flickered to where his hand was connected with yours.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Doctor Strange.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You gave his hand a squeeze before walking out the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Your chest twisted in knots. The tightness followed you down the hallway and into the elevator. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When you were mid-floor, you pulled the alarm to bring your journey to a halt. You slammed your back to the corner and screamed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How you screamed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You screamed until you lost all air in your lungs, strength in your muscles, and sense of time. You screamed as if the sound alone could transcend you beyond the veil, offering reunion to all those you wished to love. You screamed your evening’s grief, weighted with the decades that preceded it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How. You. Screamed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chest heaving, you wiped the tears from your cheeks and re-engaged the elevator. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On your floor, you strode to your office, gathered your belongings, sent one email, then left to call a taxi.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time you made it to your apartment, you walked past Isaac in the living room. He sprang to his feet and chased after you as you silently strode to the bedroom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without another word for the evening—for you were simply out of them for a lifetime—you collapsed in bed and waited, waited, waited for sleep to finally possess you. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The last thing you remembered before passing out was wondering if Stephen got home okay.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You really hoped he did.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Every longer fic I write has (at least) one chapter that really pushes the edges of my comfort zone and this is one of them. After I posted a significant, emotionally intense chapter for my longer Sherlock fic, I got fucking <i>dragged</i> for it in the reader response. I love the investment. But I admit that it was hard on my heart. So much so, that I noticed I unconsciously shifted the narrative a bit leading to <i>this</i> chapter because I just didn't want to go through that again. </p>
<p>If you've been following my writing for a bit now, you know that I write stories about broken people who learn to love and (more importantly, in my opinion) be loved. So there is pain. There is heartbreak. There is loss. And, at the end of the day, my characters will always learn to open their hearts as a result. Because that's the person I hope to be and the kinds of stories that help me heal.</p>
<p>As I say, I don't write stories. They tell me what to write. I love my characters dearly. This was not an easy loss for me either. I appreciate and adore every single one of your comments thus far. It might take me some time to reply to the ones for this chapter though. &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. The Weight of Grief</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stephen was back at Metro-General two days after Jacob’s death.</p><p>Walking through the main lobby, he breathed a sigh of relief to see that you were nowhere in sight. The sensation resembled the ghost of gratitude he felt when Christine was more than understanding of his predicament. </p><p>As she drove him home, she didn’t ask a single question. She just...knew.</p><p>He truly didn’t know what he did to deserve her. </p><p>But as Stephen perused through potential cases in his office, all he could hear was the complete mental breakdown he had in front of you.</p><p>Tapping his pen along the side of his mug, he cleared his throat in a feeble attempt to press pause on the nonstop replay that haunted his mind. God, it was embarrassing. But you would know how to handle it...surely.</p><p>You’d just pretend that it never happened.</p><p>In fact, he was counting on it.</p><p>He emailed the liaison from Stark Industries to confirm his participation in Tony’s panel. That would surely incite a response from you.</p><p>But another day flew by without a single peony in sight.</p><p>No consults. No follow-ups. No barging into his office to slap him across the face...again.</p><p>Your absence certainly created space for him to practice his patience with Christine. He was going to do better, be better. It’s what she deserved, after all.</p><p>Yet, even as he offered her more smiles free of sarcasm and intentionally timed kisses, he needed this to be over with.</p><p>Seeing you for the first time after you saw him...in such a state.</p><p>When it was time to finally rip off the bandaid (per se), Stephen marched to the elevator and punched the button for the pediatric floor. He strode to your office but furrowed his brow upon seeing that…</p><p>The lights were off.</p><p>He traveled to the nurses’ station, only to open his mouth before—</p><p>“She took the week off,” Kayla informed without looking up from her computer.</p><p>“A week?”</p><p>“A week.”</p><p>She rushed to Room 1177.</p><p>Inside the elevator again, Stephen furrowed his brow and leaned against the wall. </p><p>You took a week off. You took a week off to...take a vacation? You didn’t seem like the spontaneous holiday type. Then again, you continued to prove him wrong. So who was he to say anything about your work-life balance...especially with your boyfriend in the picture?</p><p>As the doors opened, Stephen returned to his office with a knot in his chest. </p><p>You took a week off and you didn’t tell him. Why was he so...disappointed by that fact? </p><p>No.</p><p>He wasn’t going to pursue this fascination with you. It was just a distraction and he needed, he had to do better, be better.</p><p>For Christine.</p><p>Yes.</p><p>For Christine.</p><p>You’d be back next week and everything would be back to normal; except he would be better.</p><p> </p><p>At your apartment, you threw the covers over your head as Isaac entered the room. </p><p>“I made you, um, soup?” </p><p>“I told you, I’m not hungry,” you whined.</p><p>“Babe, you gotta eat something. I can have Tony bring you tacos from that place you like.”</p><p>“I’m trying to sleep.”</p><p>“It’s 11am. You have to get out of bed.”</p><p>“Isaac, will you please just leave me alone?”</p><p>He set the bowl of soup on your nightstand and sat next to you. Rubbing your shoulder, he drew in a breath.</p><p>“Do you want to talk about it?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“What happened?”</p><p>“Isaac, please.”</p><p>“I just want to fix it. I hate seeing you this miserable.”</p><p>“I want to feel terrible.”</p><p>“You, you what? I don’t understand.”</p><p>You looked over your shoulder and sighed.</p><p>“This is the process, Isaac.”</p><p>“You want to feel like shit?”</p><p>“I don’t want to. But I have to.”</p><p>At his vacant expression, you propped yourself upright.</p><p>“You were never home for this part. I just…”</p><p>“This is about your patient?”</p><p>“Isaac,” you pleaded. “I just need you to leave me alone.”</p><p>“But I’m here now. I can help you. I want to help you. Please. Let me, let me be a part of this.”</p><p>Dragging yourself out of bed, you whimpered to the bathroom. You stopped him at the doorway and raised your eyebrows. </p><p>“I just remembered I have some time-sensitive files to send.”</p><p>“No, no. Don’t go. Not because I said the wrong thing again. I’m trying. I’m really trying.”</p><p>You drew in a breath and looked down.</p><p>“I know you are. I just need to shower so I can sneak into the hospital and send these off. Then we can talk.”</p><p>Wrapping your hand around the nape of his neck, you leaned in to kiss him; as if to pass the unspoken apology from your lips.</p><p>You just needed...time.</p><p>After your shower, you threw on your Hopkins hoodie and grabbed your keys and wallet. You pecked Isaac on the lips and offered him a soft smile.</p><p>“I’ll be back in a bit and then we can get tacos and talk. Just without Tony.”</p><p>“Deal.”</p><p>Once your taxi arrived, you slumped in your seat and buried your face in your hand. After a few gentle sobs, you looked back out the window and drew in a breath.</p><p>When you finally arrived at Metro-General, you apologetically paid your fare and dashed inside. With your hood over your head like a stealth cloak, you wandered near the ER in search of a vacant on-call room.</p><p>But your quest was thwarted upon the sounds of Christine’s voice.</p><p>“Page Neuro and Peds! And book an OR stat!”</p><p>Without a second thought, you rushed into the ER. Christine looked at you with wide eyes.</p><p>“16-year-old female,” she informed. “Car accident. Metal shard pierced her left eye and looks like we have facial fractures too.”</p><p>Your eyes darted across the unconscious girl.</p><p>“I got her. Should probably get Plastics for her face just in case.” </p><p>You gave Christine a nod as Stephen dashed into the room. Wheeling the hospital bed to the OR, he furrowed his brow.</p><p>“I thought you were out this week.”</p><p>“I am.”</p><p>You shoved the half-finished case file into his hands so he could read and walk.</p><p>Against your initial assessment, you and Stephen were able to remove the metal from the teenager’s face while retaining her eye. Neither of you could admit it, but it couldn’t have been done without the other.</p><p>After closing and washing up, you rushed out of the OR. </p><p>By your saving grace, you found an open on-call room down the hallway. You darted inside and gently closed the door. </p><p>Drawing in a deep inhale, you crawled in bed and curled up with your arms around your knees. And, with the weight of performance relieved from your chest, you cried a long sob. You hung your head as your shoulders shook and your tears stained the sheets supporting you.</p><p>Yes, you finally had time.</p><p>Entranced by your own grief, you didn’t even notice the door open and close behind you. But your body tightened as another cautiously joined you on that worn, weary cot.</p><p>Stephen wrapped his arm around your shoulder and buried his nose in the crook of your neck.</p><p>Closing your eyes and covering them with your hand, you leaned your back against his chest and cried.</p><p>Your own chest heaved as you poured your heart into every nook, cranny, and crevice that would accept it in that hollow room. </p><p>You cried to the point you didn’t even know why you were crying anymore. All you knew was that it hurt; every fiber of your being hurt and the only way to exorcise the pain that plagued your body was through the tears that flooded your eyes.</p><p>Stephen drew you closer to him as he realized that in all the turmoil of that horrific night, he never once asked…</p><p>How are you?</p><p>You didn’t take time off to escape work. You took time off to mourn.</p><p>While a sliver (or slice) of his belief in himself died that night, you lost someone you loved. God, how you loved everyone and everything. Even—or was it especially?—when you knew you would lose them.</p><p>When your sobs subsided to gentle shakes of your shoulder, Stephen leaned in and…</p><p>Paused.</p><p>But after a hard swallow, he thought better and placed a tender kiss on top of your head. </p><p>As you reached into your pocket, Stephen leaned back. You retrieved a few tissues and shamelessly blew your nose.</p><p>After tossing the tissues aside, you looked over your shoulder and offered him the smallest of smiles.</p><p>“Hi,” you whispered.</p><p>“Hi.”</p><p>Twisting your torso, you traced the back of your fingers over the side of his face. </p><p>“I am so sorry,” he murmured.</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>He tightened his hold around your waist.</p><p>“I really hoped,” you swallowed. “I really thought you could do it.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>With a caring touch, you brushed a lingering lock of hair from his forehead. You traced your thumb over the grey along his temples, drawing in a breath.</p><p>“What do we do now?” he asked.</p><p>“We save the next one.”</p><p>Stephen breathed a sigh of relief just as Christine’s voice echoed in the hallway.</p><p>“Better get going, Doctor Strange.” You started untangling yourself from him. “Your girlfriend needs you.”</p><p>Clenching his jaw, Stephen retracted from you and made his way to the door. When his fingers graced the handle, he looked at you and held his breath.</p><p>“Are we…”</p><p>“Yes, we’re good.”</p><p>After you gave him a nod, Stephen slipped out the door. Christine beamed at the sight of him.</p><p>“Oh, hey. I’ve been looking for you.”</p><p>He closed the door behind him and smirked.</p><p>“I was looking for West.”</p><p>“What for?”</p><p>“Wanted his thoughts on how to remove a metal shard from an eyeball without severing the optic nerve.”</p><p>“For the surgery you just successfully completed?” Christine scoffed. “You just want the joy of proving his methodology wrong.”</p><p>“It gets better every time.”</p><p>“You’re an ass.”</p><p>“Fortunately for you, you find my arrogance endearing.”</p><p>“Mmm...Fortunately for you.” She grabbed his hand and checked his watch. “I haven’t eaten yet. And I think it’s just about time you bought me lunch.”</p><p>“Is that so, Doctor Palmer?”</p><p>He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and they strode down the hallway together.</p><p>With your back pressed to the wall inside the on-call room, you wiped away a few lingering tears before checking your phone. </p><p>Only three missed calls.</p><p>You dialed Isaac with a smile and a sniffle.</p><p>“Hey, I’m headed back to you now. Car crash victim. But everyone is fine.”</p><p>“Good timing, babe. Because I’ve got a surprise for you.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Just come home and I’ll show you.”</p><p>“Alright. I’m on my way.”</p><p>“Hey, you know I love you, right?”</p><p>“Yeah, I-I love you too.”</p><p>And you believed him.</p><p>He was finally starting to mean it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Personally, I think Stephen wasn’t going to kiss her head. But thought better and did :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Wheels Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When you arrived home, a gentle smile graced your lips at the sight of the dining table set with candles and roses. Isaac pulled out a chair for you and grinned.</p><p>“Welcome home, babe.”</p><p>“What’s this?”</p><p>“Just a little something I threw together for you. Don’t worry. I didn’t cook. I got, well, exactly what you asked for.”</p><p>You laughed as he placed a few tacos on your plate, still in their wrappings. After setting a burrito on his, he took his seat and drew in a breath.</p><p>“I know things are different now with me home practically all the time. But I meant what I said. I want to do this right.”</p><p>“Isaac, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just run on you.”</p><p>“Hey, you’re saving kids. I think I can handle myself just long enough for you to help a car crash victim.”</p><p>He outstretched his hand for you to place yours on top, giving your fingers a doting squeeze.</p><p>“I love you. You mean everything to me. I’m in this. I’m all in on this. I just, I need you to meet me halfway.”</p><p>My, how the tables have turned.</p><p>You looked down and picked at a piece of cheese peeking through the wrapper on your plate. </p><p>“I need to let you in. I know.”</p><p>“Fresh starts, right?”</p><p>“Yeah…” Your gaze drifted back to him. “Fresh starts.”</p><p>You and Isaac danced through small talk for the duration of your meal. When you breathed a sigh of relief to finally have food in your stomach, he set his hands on his knees and leaned back in his chair.</p><p>“I think we should have a kid.”</p><p>“Don’t we already have one?”</p><p>“Oh, c’mon. Is it really that crazy?”</p><p>“Well, yes. Were you present for the conversation we just had?”</p><p>“I wasn’t ready before but I’m ready now. I’m finally home enough and we don’t want to wait too long do we?”</p><p>“I don’t even know if I want to have kids!”</p><p>“You...what? Of course you do. We’ve always talked about this.”</p><p>“In a fantasy world when your tours were over and...oh my God, you’re serious?”</p><p>“Are you scared? Because you’d make a great mom. Anyone who looks at you would know that.”</p><p>“I just…” You stood upright. “I’m going to take a nap.”</p><p>Brows knit together, Isaac wrapped his fingers around your wrist before you excused yourself from the table.</p><p>“Just think about it,” he pleaded. </p><p>“Sure, of course I will.”</p><p>You left without another word.</p><p>Isaac’s question lingered in your mind even as you returned to the hospital the next day, ending your vacation early. You reunited with Stephen in the OR to drill burr holes into a 2-year-old’s head.</p><p>Once an adequate amount of blood was relieved from your patient, you and Stephen exited the OR. He cleared his throat and nodded to you.</p><p>“So are you, um, are you good?” </p><p>“Are you really checking in on my mental health <em> after </em>we just split open a toddler’s skull?”</p><p>But when he raised his eyebrows, you drew in a breath and nodded.</p><p>“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”</p><p>“Okay because if you ever needed to, uh, talk or anything…”</p><p>You cocked an eyebrow, inciting Stephen to purse his lips and swallow.</p><p>“I could recommend a qualified therapist.”</p><p>“Thank you for your concern and the assist, Doctor Strange. I’ll let you know if there’s anything else we need.”</p><p>You exited the prep area, offering him a small smile with your departure.</p><p>Aside from that single conversation, you and Stephen followed through on your agreement. Life returned to normal as you both moved on and continued to save the next one.</p><p>And the next.</p><p>And the next. </p><p>Tony’s conference loomed nearer and nearer. He loved to remind you with a daily countdown text.</p><p>
  <em> T-minus 5 days, Sparkles. </em>
</p><p>Pocketing your phone, you rolled your eyes and made your way to the neurology floor. Before you entered Stephen’s office, you furrowed your brow at Billy.</p><p>Elbows on his desk, he buried his hands in his hair and sighed.</p><p>“Something troubling you, Billy?”</p><p>“I don’t think I can do gluten-free anymore.”</p><p>“I’m amazed you made it this far. It’s been what? A year?”</p><p>“Yeah, almost a year and a half. Right before you got here.”</p><p>“I support whatever you need to do. Just let me know and I can stop buying coconut flour.”</p><p>“Maybe I’ll talk to the guys in Diagnostic Imaging.”</p><p>“Good luck with that.”</p><p>“Thanks,” he grumbled before folding his arms and resting his head over his hands.</p><p>With a smile, you opened the door to Stephen’s office and raised your eyebrows.</p><p>“You’re flying with us to LA, right?”</p><p>“A six-hour fight with Tony Stark?” he scoffed.</p><p>Grimacing, you sat on the edge of his desk and eyed him.</p><p>“That’s exactly why I need you on that jet with me. I’m not drinking. So there’s no way I can survive—”</p><p>“You’re not drinking?”</p><p>“Health thing. And even if I was drinking, there’s not enough alcohol in the world to drown out Tony.”</p><p>“Have you ever considered a job in sales?”</p><p>“Doctor Strange! I’m serious. Please come with me. You’re my only hope for surviving this entire endeavor.”</p><p>“But I was really looking forward to my first class service.”</p><p>“It’s a private jet! I’m sure he can scrounge up a moist towelette for you.”</p><p>As the corner of Stephen’s lip tugged in a smirk, you threw your head back and groaned. </p><p>“You never booked a ticket.”</p><p>“And miss out on an opportunity to take advantage of the Stark Industries amenities? Never.”</p><p>You smacked his shoulder with the back of your hand before leaping off his desk.</p><p>“Alright. He’s picking me up from my place at 9 am. Don’t be late because he will gladly leave you behind.”</p><p>“I don’t doubt it.”</p><p>But the morning of your private flight to California, the only person late was…</p><p>“Sparkles! I’m here to whisk you away.”</p><p>Tony let himself into your apartment.</p><p>With his hands on his hips, Isaac shrugged.</p><p>“She got called into the hospital.”</p><p>“I wonder what it’s like to be that committed to your job.”</p><p>“I told her not to go. But she said it was something with the board. About the donation, I think?”</p><p>“Alright.” Tony plopped on the couch and outstretched his arms against the back. “It’s not like I can leave without her.”</p><p>After a hard swallow, he redirected his gaze to Isaac and narrowed his eyes.</p><p>“You’re going to behave yourself while she’s gone?”</p><p>“What kind of a question is that? Of course I am.”</p><p>“Just had to check.” Tony kicked his feet on the coffee table and raised his eyebrows. “Because if you pull any more of your old shit, I swear to God—”</p><p>“Dude, did you come here just to ream me out? She’s the one who didn’t invite me to go with.”</p><p>“Jealous? Must be a new sensation for you.”</p><p>Crossing his arms, Isaac looked down and shook his head. With gritted teeth, he looked back at Tony.</p><p>“You’ll look out for her?”</p><p>“If she can handle all the shit you put her through last year, she can handle herself. But of course I’ll keep an eye out.”</p><p>Isaac drew in a breath. But before he could reply, a firm knock on the front door swung it right open. Tony rolled his eyes.</p><p>“I knew she was going to rope you into this.”</p><p>Stephen furrowed his brow. “Where is she…?”</p><p>“Hospital,” Isaac answered. “Something with the board.”</p><p>“At 8:45 on a Friday morning?”</p><p>“Why are you asking me? I didn’t call her in.” Isaac stomped to the kitchen to pour a glass of water. </p><p>As Stephen and Tony avoided each other’s gaze, you strode into the doorway. As if entranced by another world, you looked Stephen up and down.</p><p>“Oh. Doctor Strange. You’re here.”</p><p>“Yeah...You told me not to be late.”</p><p>“For what?”</p><p>“For me.” Tony popped to his feet. Wrapping his hands around your face, he adorned each cheek with a quick kiss and grinned at you. “Ready for palm trees?”</p><p>“Um, sure?”</p><p>“Hey, Sparkles. You okay? You don’t look so good.”</p><p>“Yeah. I, um. I…”</p><p>Flarg, the room wouldn’t stop spinning. The world still hadn’t stopped spinning.</p><p>Tony raised his eyebrows. “We’re not even in the air and you look like you’re gonna be sick.” </p><p>Placing your hand over your stomach, you shook your head.</p><p>“No, I’m fine. I’m going to be fine. Let me grab my bag or…”</p><p>Isaac slid your suitcase across the living room to Tony. As you blinked a few times to clear your vision, Stephen rested his hand on your shoulder and leaned in.</p><p>“Are you…”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>You looked at him with wide eyes.</p><p>“Nevermind,” Stephen cleared his throat and straightened his posture.</p><p>“Hey, Keebler.” Tony nodded to Stephen. “Why don’t you stop whispering sweet nothings to Sparkles and take this down with me? Give her a moment to say bye.”</p><p>“What did you just call me?”</p><p>“Oh, I know you heard me.”</p><p>Ushering Stephen out the door, Tony snickered to himself. Isaac rested his hands on your shoulders and drew in a breath.</p><p>“Are you okay?”</p><p>“I’m just nervous about flying.”</p><p>“Alright...That’s new?” He drew you into an embrace. “I don’t want you to worry about being gone. It’s just going to be me and some takeout all weekend.”</p><p>“You mean that?”</p><p>“I promise you.”</p><p>Isaac withdrew and pressed his forehead to yours, wrapping one hand around the back of your neck. </p><p>“I love you. With everything that I am,” he whispered. “I am never going to hurt you again.” </p><p>“I love you too.”</p><p>You pulled away and cleared your throat.</p><p>“You’re going to kick ass on that panel.”</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>“And you’re still considering…”</p><p>“I am. Like I promised.”</p><p>“Alright. Give Tony a hard time for me.”</p><p>“I heard that.” Tony marched through the door and smirked. “Wheels up, Sparkles?”</p><p>“Uh, yeah. Sure.”</p><p>You took a step toward Tony. But not before spinning around to give Isaac a kiss. </p><p>Your hands trailed in his hair, kissing him like you hadn’t in quite some time. He certainly relished the longing that lingered underneath your touch.</p><p>Tony cleared his throat and redirected his gaze to the floor. With heavy breath, you untangled yourself from Issac and gave him a nod.</p><p>“I’ll call you. And text you. And all the things,” you panted.</p><p>“I look forward to it.”</p><p>Isaac smiled and removed his hand from the small of your back. As you walked next to Tony, he waved to the two of you.</p><p>“Have fun. But stay out of trouble.”</p><p>“Without you around, she just might.” Tony winked at him.</p><p>“Dude…”</p><p>“C’mon, Sparkles. If you do hurl in my car, just make sure it’s all over the other guy.”</p><p>You shook your head and looked at Isaac.</p><p>“I’ll see you Monday. I love you.”</p><p>“Love you too, babe. Really, enjoy yourself. You deserve it.”</p><p>Tony closed the door behind you, but not without giving Isaac a determined glare. Isaac raised his hands in defense and mouthed ‘I promise’.</p><p>“You fucking better,” Tony growled before closing the door.</p><p>Three hours into the flight, you stumbled out of the bathroom and gulped. Palm pressed to the wall, you slammed your eyes closed with a groan.</p><p>“Hey, hey.” Tony rested his hands on your shoulders and tried to capture your attention. “What’s wrong? You’ve never gotten sick on a flight before.”</p><p>“Move,” Stephen ordered from behind him.</p><p>“Don’t make this into—”</p><p>“Guys, I’m fine.” You pushed past them both and laid down on the couch. “Just a rough morning.”</p><p>“Sweetheart.” Tony snapped his fingers at the flight attendant. “Could you grab her some ginger ale? Maybe some mouthwash too.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” you groaned.</p><p>“It’s fine. I just figure you’ll be more comfortable.”</p><p>Stephen crouched next to you and narrowed his eyes.</p><p>“What are your other symptoms? When did this start?”</p><p>“Doctor Strange, I’m fine. It’s just been a rough morning.”</p><p>“We know what happened the last time you self diagnosed.”</p><p>“I’m not doing this with you.” You sat upright and accepted the ginger ale from Tony. “Thanks.”</p><p>“Anything else you need, just ask. Preferably me.” Tony smirked.</p><p>“I’m the actual doctor here.” Stephen glared at him. “If she needs medical attention—”</p><p>“Will you both just shut up?”</p><p>“Geez, Sparkles. You get cranky when you’re nauseous.”</p><p>“I just, I can’t fucking listen to you two working out your goddamn power complexes today. Okay?”</p><p>Stephen and Tony exchanged a glance as you accepted mouthwash from the flight attendant.</p><p>“I’m going to rinse this terrible taste out of my mouth. Just sit down and don’t say anything to each other until we get there.”</p><p>They sat on opposite sides of the cabin and glared at each other. When you returned from the bathroom, you curled up on the couch next to Tony and rested your head in his lap.</p><p>“Just tell me when we get there.”</p><p>As you closed your eyes, Tony raised his eyebrows at Stephen. But the doctor only grumbled in reply, occupying himself with a medical journal on neurogenesis.</p><p>His eyes flickered to you every five minutes or whenever you mumbled incoherent words in your sleep.</p><p>But no matter what was wrong with you...it couldn’t possibly because you were….no. It simply wasn’t possible. If you were pregnant, you would have said something before you got on that plane. Right?</p><p>Right.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Saving Grace</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When you arrived in LA, Tony gently shook your shoulders; ignoring the numbness in his leg.</p><p>“How you feeling, Sparkles?”</p><p>“Fi-fine. I’m fine.”</p><p>“Want me to take you right to the hotel?”</p><p>“What? We’re...Oh my God.”</p><p>You sat upright and looked at him with wide eyes.</p><p>“I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll have it together for the rest of the weekend. I know this is important to you.”</p><p>“You good?” Tony furrowed his brow.</p><p>“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s nothing. What’s your plan from here?”</p><p>“Um, coffee at Santa Monica. But if you’re not feeling well…”</p><p>“Coffee would be great.” You looked at Stephen. “You coming with?”</p><p>“Does he have to?” Tony rolled his eyes.</p><p>“It’s kinda weird without Isaac here…”</p><p>“But it did significantly raise the average IQ of everyone in the room.” Stephen smirked, only to jerk his head back when Tony stifled a laugh.</p><p>Sure, part of his friendship with your boyfriend was banter. But even Stephen didn’t expect Tony to openly accept criticism of his favorite musician; especially from him.</p><p>You buried your face in your hands. </p><p>“You like to get elitist on him.” You gestured to Stephen, then to Tony. “And you just like to give him crap for the sake of it.”</p><p>“Sparkles, the guy is just asking for it sometimes.”</p><p>As you shook your head, you pulled out your phone to call Isaac.</p><p>“Hey, yeah. We landed. Tony’s got a few things planned before—”</p><p>“No, no, no.” Tony plucked the phone from your hand. He rolled his eyes as he spoke to Isaac.  “I’ll keep you updated on our whereabouts. But unless you hear from her, she’s totally fine. I don’t want her glued to her phone all weekend.”</p><p>Before Isaac could reply, he hung up and pocketed your phone.</p><p>“What the flork, Tony?”</p><p>“You’re not spending the weekend with me only to be on the phone with another guy.”</p><p>“Let me just ask what my boyfriend thinks of that.”</p><p>“Flirtation aside, don’t you want to enjoy three days without worrying about him?” He raised his eyebrows. “Be honest with me.”</p><p>Shifting your weight, your eyes flickered to Stephen. But he only flipped the page of his medical journal, forcing his gaze to the words in front of him.</p><p>“Tony...what if he—”</p><p>“I promise to check in on him.”</p><p>“Does your boyfriend really need a babysitter?” Stephen scoffed, tossing the journal aside.</p><p>“Hey, asshole. Butt out of this. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tony redirected his attention to you. “He said to enjoy yourself this weekend. And I second that notion. Now, coffee? We can even bring what’s-his-name.”</p><p>“Doctor Strange.”</p><p>“Yeah, that’s what I said.”</p><p>“Get coffee with us, Doctor Strange?”</p><p>“Oh? I thought I was supposed to butt out of whatever foreplay you have going on.”</p><p>“Dude, did you not just hear her? She’s got a boyfriend.”</p><p>You smirked at Tony. “Coffee and the beach sounds good. I really need some fresh air.”</p><p>“Then let’s get out of this metal canister and go.”</p><p>At the coffee shop, Stephen and Tony both furrowed their brows when you ordered rooibos tea. As you mashed the bag in the hot water, your eyes flickered between them.</p><p>“Oh, no. Not again.”</p><p>“So the tea was a mistake?” Tony asked.</p><p>“No, I forgot to take my medication to prevent my second head from growing. Why are you both looking at me like that?”</p><p>“I have never once seen you drink tea,” Stephen said.</p><p>Tony crossed his arms. </p><p>“I’ve known you for the entire duration of your relationship and I have never seen you drink tea.”</p><p>“Well, I didn’t want to trash my stomach with caffeine after I puked my guts out.”</p><p>“You are an entirely different woman without your boyfriend around,” Tony chuckled and wrapped his arm around your shoulder.</p><p>Following you out of the coffee shop, Stephen rolled his eyes and took a sip of his coffee. It was horrifically bitter. No wonder you chose tea.</p><p>As the breeze of the beach kissed your cheeks, you drew in a breath and sighed. Tony outstretched his arms with a grin.</p><p>“Just feel those negative ions.”</p><p>“That’s just pseudoscience,” Stephen groaned. </p><p>“God, you are a buzzkill.” Tony scowled. “Why do you even like hanging out with this guy?”</p><p>You shrugged. “He has his moments. You should see him drill a burr hole.”</p><p>But the smirk on Stephen’s lips didn’t last long when you furrowed your brow.</p><p>“I should call Isaac.”</p><p>“Sparkles.” Tony stopped you and placed his hands on your shoulders. “You’re going to have to trust him eventually.”</p><p>“But what if he—” </p><p>“The whole set up was my fault, remember? I’m the one you’re mad at. Hate me. I’m the one you can’t trust.”</p><p>With a huff, you plopped on the sand. Resting your forearms over your knees, you picked at the sleeve of your cup and shook your head.</p><p>“So there’s a mixer tonight?” you asked.</p><p>“You never mentioned a mixer.” Stephen narrowed his eyes as he and Tony took a seat on either side of you. “We’ll have to small talk with the other attendees?”</p><p>“Oh no.” Tony shook his head. “We only let the happy ones mingle with the people. The ones like you, we’ll lock in the lab.”</p><p>“Tony.”</p><p>“Yes, yes.” He rolled his eyes. “There’s a mixer so everyone can warm up their people skills. You might need extra time.”</p><p>“Guys…” You slammed your eyes closed and shook your head. “I hate to break up the party. But can we just get to the hotel because I, I feel terrible.”</p><p>Tony gulped. “Sure, whatever you need.”</p><p>When you arrived at the hotel, Tony checked you in. Given your physical condition, he decided to forgo sending Stephen to the janitor’s closet like he originally planned. All for your sake, of course. He didn’t give a shit about the depressing ass guy you insisted on dragging around with you like a ball and chain.</p><p>Biting his lip, Tony handed you your key.</p><p>“All your stuff should already be up there. You call me if you need anything?”</p><p>“I don’t have my phone.”</p><p>“Just press one on your room phone.” He smirked. “I’m also in the adjoining room so you could just knock.”</p><p>“Okay, thanks, Tony. I’m sorry. I know that you had some hair-brained scheme planned for today.”</p><p>“Buying all the puppies in the state of California will just have to wait.”</p><p>“Oh, God. Isaac told you about the dog debate?”</p><p>“For the record, I’m on your side on that one.”</p><p>“I can’t, I can’t do this now. The mixer...It’s in the main ballroom, right?”</p><p>“Yes, Sparkles. And I expect you to turn heads.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah.” You rolled your eyes. </p><p>Stephen approached with his room key in hand. Pursing his lips, he raised his eyebrows at you.</p><p>“I’m not getting stuck in a twin bed.”</p><p>“Tony!”</p><p>“Planning on taking someone home tonight?” Tony snickered. “Santa’s workshop back in town?”</p><p>“I have a girlfriend. And while a twin bed might fit you just fine, I need just a little bit more legroom.”</p><p>“Oh, don’t get any ideas based on our height difference. My ears are entirely human.”</p><p>“Tony,” you groaned.</p><p>He started leading you to the elevator, blowing a kiss to Stephen.</p><p>“I’m in room 177,” Stephen called out.</p><p>“And here I thought you were taken.”</p><p>“Not for you, jackass. Just in case she needs an actual medical professional to help her with...anything.”</p><p>You gave Stephen a small wave as the elevator doors closed. Fortunately for both of you, he already overheard your room number.</p><p>Outside your room, Tony put his hand in his pocket and cleared his throat. </p><p>“Do you want to call him?”</p><p>“No, Tony. I just, I really need to just get some sleep.”</p><p>Tony pressed a kiss to the top of your head. With a watchful eye, he studied you as you sulked to your room; wondering if he really should call your boyfriend to find out what kind of dumbass fight you’d gotten into this time.</p><p>After hours passed without a word from you, Tony left to arrange preparations for the mixer. But fifteen minutes before your alleged appearance, you jolted awake to the demanding ring of your hotel room phone.</p><p>“Hullo?” you grumbled.</p><p>“Were you asleep?” Stephen asked.</p><p>“What? Yeah.”</p><p>“We’re supposed to be at this stupid mixer in fifteen minutes.”</p><p>“No, we have hours….oh, flarg.”</p><p>“This is a black-tie thing, right?”</p><p>But you already hung up the phone.</p><p>Five minutes later, you struggled to zip up your emerald gown upon a knock on your door. You scrambled to swing the door open.</p><p>“Oh thank, God. Zip me up.”</p><p>You spun around to reveal your backside, unknowingly exposing a hint of lace toward your lower, lower, lower back. Stephen gritted his teeth and obliged you, focusing his gaze up, up, upward as he zipped your dress.</p><p>“So this is formal?”</p><p>“Yeah, it’s Tony. Of course it’s extravagant.” You put your earrings in and raised your eyebrows. “You look nice.”</p><p>“So do…” He looked down and cleared his throat. “So do you.”</p><p>Sitting on the edge of your bed, you threw on your heels. You popped to your feet and shook your head.</p><p>“I don’t have time to do my makeup. Do I look presentable to society?”</p><p>“Uh...sure?”</p><p>“Good enough.”</p><p>You threw open your suitcase and withdrew a black velvet box. When you opened it, Stephen’s eyes widened at the massive marquise cut emerald ring. You slid it on your left ring finger and spun around.</p><p>“Okay, I’m ready to go.”</p><p>“Did he...I mean, congratulations?”</p><p>“Oh, no. This isn’t, this is just to ward off the creeps. It’s a dumb family heirloom. Let’s go. Tony will be butthurt if we’re late and I won’t hear the end of it.”</p><p>Just as you started to rush out the door, Stephen placed his hands on your shoulders and looked into your eyes.</p><p>“How do you feel?”</p><p>“I’ve been better.”</p><p>“What’s wrong?”</p><p>But when you only held your breath, he bit his lip and swallowed.</p><p>“Come on. You can tell me.”</p><p>“Doctor Strange, I am barely holding it together. Let’s just make it through tomorrow so I can get on a plane back home.”</p><p>You strutted right past him and into the hallway.</p><p>When you and Stephen arrived at the mixer, Tony greeted you with his usual smile and two kisses on each side of your face. He snapped at a waiter.</p><p>“Vodka soda for the lady?”</p><p>“Gin and tonic,” you corrected.</p><p>“You are a changed woman.” He looked at you with wide eyes. “But who am I to judge?”</p><p>When your drink was in hand in impeccable timing, you smiled at Tony and raised your glass.</p><p>“Thank you. You make the rounds. But I’ll let you know if I need anything. I promise.”</p><p>“Just as long as you don’t fall asleep at the bar because you’ve been spending the evening with this guy.”</p><p>Tony patted your shoulder and gave Stephen a nod. </p><p>When Tony was (thankfully) out of sight, Stephen furrowed his brow. </p><p>“I thought you weren’t—”</p><p>“Here.” You handed him the drink. “I’m not in the mood to deal with this. I’m going to grab a club soda and we can avoid people together.”</p><p>You strutted to the bar. But before Stephen could follow after you, he spun around at the sound of a familiar voice.</p><p>“Stephen Strange? Is that you?”</p><p>Oh shit.</p><p>At the bar, you waited for your drink and looked over your shoulder to check on Stephen. He was chatting with a vivacious woman. Hm, he must have a thing for redheads.</p><p>But you rethought your conclusion based on the expression on his face. </p><p>Tight jaw. Eyes darting about. And….flushed cheeks?</p><p>Abandoning your club soda, you smirked and slowly sauntered over to him. </p><p>“Well, of course I know what you’ve been up to.” The woman flipped her hair over her shoulder and smiled at him. “I’ve seen your interviews. Even went to one of those Neurological Society dinners.” </p><p>Stephen bore his eyes into his drink as he watched the liquid dance in circles. He was practicing. He was doing better, being better.</p><p>For Christine.</p><p>Yes.</p><p>For Christine.</p><p>“Stephen, my love!” you sang and wrapped your arm around him. </p><p>Placing your left hand over his chest, you looked at him and batted your eyelashes. He stared at you with wide eyes and gulped.</p><p>“Um, h-hi?”</p><p>“Thank you for keeping him occupied while I shooed off Mr. Stark.” You wiggled your shoulders. “He didn’t even notice I was missing.”</p><p>“Oh, I did,” he grunted, pulling you closer.</p><p>“You’re engaged?” the woman coughed. “Oh, well, congratulations.”</p><p>“Yes, just happened last week. Now, he’s engaged. But you are…”</p><p>“Stephanie Henderson.” She outstretched her hand. </p><p>“Christine Palmer.”</p><p>As you peeled yourself from Stephen’s body to shake her hand, you couldn’t feel his muscles tense. But you magnetized yourself back to him in an instant.</p><p>“We went to medical school together,” Stephanie tittered. “He was top of our class. Except for, well, me.”</p><p>“Oh, I’m sure you gave him quite a run for his money. But Stephen, love. I can’t seem to get the bartender’s attention.”</p><p>“I doubt that.” He furrowed his brow.</p><p>But you pinched his side and gave him a look.</p><p>“Oh, uh, right,” he cleared his throat. “You...you need help?”</p><p>“Please. Come with me and help a girl get a bit of attention?”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“Pleasure meeting you, Stephanie. We’ll see you around for the weekend.”</p><p>You shoved Stephen to the side as she called out to you.</p><p>“Good to see you, Stephen!”</p><p>At the bar, you started to retract your hand from his. But he squeezed you even tighter and gritted his teeth.</p><p>“Don’t you dare.”</p><p>“What?” you laughed. “Afraid she’ll slip you a key to her room?”</p><p>“Don’t. Leave. Me.”</p><p>“Alright, alright. Clingy thing you are. Next time you’re at one of these things, get yourself a wedding band. I’m telling you, this thing is magic.”</p><p>You waved your ring at him and smirked.</p><p>“Next time I’m at one of these things? The only reason I’m here is because of you.”</p><p>You raised your interlinked hands and scoffed.</p><p>“No, Doctor Strange. The only reason you are here and not desperately trying to escape Stephanie Henderson’s hotel room is because of me. She was ready to get it.”</p><p>“I could have gotten out of that myself.”</p><p>“Oh? I think Tony needs me.”</p><p>You started to lean back but he slammed your hand to the bar and glared at you.</p><p>“Thank you,” he grumbled.</p><p>“You’re welcome, Doctor Strange.”</p><p>You waved to the bartender then pointed to Stephen.</p><p>“Get this man a double of whiskey. He’s going to need it if he’ll survive the night.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Sometime Around Midnight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As is in the name, musical inspiration for this chapter is <a href="https://youtu.be/UYPoMjR6-Ao">Sometime Around Midnight by The Airborne Toxic Event.</a> This is a short follow-up to last chapter :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stephen couldn’t stop studying you.</p>
<p>While there was a nuance in your demeanor that felt lighter, freer than back in New York, there was certainly something…</p>
<p>“Wrong!” you laughed. “Brian May has a PhD in astrophysics. It’s Greg Graffin who has his PhD in zoology. How could you mix up Queen and Bad Religion?”</p>
<p>But when he smirked, you set down your club soda and shook your head.</p>
<p>“Oh my God. You have a photographic memory. You were just testing me, weren’t you?”</p>
<p>“Sterling Morrison.” He raised his eyebrows.</p>
<p>“Oh, um. Something obscure...Medieval literature!”</p>
<p>“Very good.”</p>
<p>“This is hardly fair when you’re basically a walking textbook.”</p>
<p>“Textbook?” He wrinkled his nose. “That’s so dry. I’m more of a…”</p>
<p>“Search engine of useless information?”</p>
<p>“I’d hardly call this useless. Since you’re finding yourself quite entertained right now.” He polished off his glass and set it aside. “What’s the real reason you’re not drinking?”</p>
<p>“Hey, how about we make this about you again? It’s your favorite topic of conversation, after all.”</p>
<p>“I am not, not that bad. God, am I?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Doctor Strange. I have known Tony Stark for nearly a decade and you are, by far, the most egotistical, self-absorbed man I have ever met.”</p>
<p>“Then what are you doing talking to me?” Stephen narrowed his eyes, the slightest hint of satisfaction tugging at the corner of his lip. “With those standards, there are plenty of individuals to converse with tonight who are far less conceited.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know. What are you doing talking to me when this is clearly an utter waste of your precious time?”</p>
<p>With his bowtie undone and shirt partially untucked, Tony strode to the bar and held out his hands.</p>
<p>“Sparkles, what are you still doing here? You’ve got an early day tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>But your question was answered when you and Stephen glanced around to see the breakdown crew taking away chairs and dismantling tables. Your eyes flickered from Stephen’s empty glass to his face.</p>
<p>“I suppose that’s why you never got another round.”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t even planning on drinking this much. So I guess that’s a good thing?”</p>
<p>Just as Tony opened his mouth to speak, you threw your arms around him; knocking the air from his lungs.</p>
<p>“Thank you for being a complete pain in the ass and convincing me to do this.”</p>
<p>A grin crept across his lips as he placed his hands on your bare back.</p>
<p>“Talking people into things they don’t want to do is one of my specialties.”</p>
<p>“Well, I love you for it.”</p>
<p>“Geez, Sparkles. How much did you drink tonight?”</p>
<p>But Stephen furrowed his brow as you lied to your friend.</p>
<p>“Just enough that you went from annoying to endearing.”</p>
<p>You pressed your lips to Tony’s cheek and gave them both a wave to excuse yourself. </p>
<p>As Tony and Stephen watched you walk out of the nearly vacant ballroom, Tony shook his head and drew in a breath.</p>
<p>“You don’t have to pretend around me.” He cleared this throat. </p>
<p>“That I’m uninterested in anything you have to say?” Stephen scoffed. “I’m not pretending.”</p>
<p>“No, that you’re not completely in love with her, dumbass.”</p>
<p>“Again...I’m not. As I told you, I have a—”</p>
<p>“Girlfriend. Sure. I’ve had plenty of women rotating through my life since I met her. And I also know that she collects silent lovers like no one I’ve ever seen.”</p>
<p>Rolling his eyes, Stephen threw his coat over his shoulder. But Tony untucked the rest of his shirt and shook his head.</p>
<p>“It doesn’t matter if she loves you back. In fact, I’m convinced that’s when the spell breaks. Love her from afar and she’ll change you for the better. Love her up close and, well, you met her boyfriend.”</p>
<p>“So your friendship with him is…”</p>
<p>“I know what a piece of shit he is. Just look at the company he keeps.” Tony put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “Unnamable women excluded, of course.”</p>
<p>As Stephen furrowed his brow, Tony ducked behind the bar and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He downed a gulp and raised his eyebrows at Stephen. </p>
<p>“So if you need a weekend to just let yourself be in love with her, now’s your chance.”</p>
<p>“I’m not in love with her.”</p>
<p>“Sure. And I didn’t put together this entire conference to give her three days without that jackass trying to suck the life from her. Benefits to modern medicine are just a side perk.”</p>
<p>“What does she see in him?” Stephen slowly directed his gaze to Tony.</p>
<p>“Tunnel vision. That’s the only way I can think to explain it.” He rested his palms on the edge of the bar and leaned forward. “You’re a doctor, as you like to remind me every waking moment. Is she pregnant?”</p>
<p>“I’m a neurosurgeon. Not an OB.”</p>
<p>“Because if that’s the case, we’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.”</p>
<p>“We?”</p>
<p>“You think Guitar Hero is actually going to be a half-decent father to that kid? He’s going to make her do all the work. Someone’s going to have to pick up the slack.”</p>
<p>“You...you’ve been cleaning up his messes for the entirety of their relationship?” Stephen narrowed his eyes. “Have you ever thought that maybe she’s capable of seeing who he is without your interference?”</p>
<p>“Yes, and it only gets worse. They break-up, get back together, break-up, get back together. It’s a shit show and she always pays the price.”</p>
<p>“He cheated on her. That’s why she’s afraid to leave him alone.”</p>
<p>“Not my story to tell, Doc.” Tony polished off his glass and set it aside. He patted Stephen on the shoulder with a smirk. “But welcome to the family. If your relationship survives this, you’ll have gotten farther than I ever have.”</p>
<p>He left Stephen to watch the clean-up crew break down the scene.</p>
<p>Chair by chair. Table by table. Word by word.</p>
<p>They broke it down.</p>
<p>By the time you were in your room, you tossed your jewelry aside before struggling to finagle with your zipper. When you finally captured the elusive beast between your fingers, you slid it down your back…</p>
<p>...Only to realize exactly where it stopped.</p>
<p>Flarg.</p>
<p>How much of your ass did Doctor Strange really see?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. The Power of Error</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Doctor?”</p><p>The moderator repeated your name...for the third time. </p><p>Grateful for the conveniently placed table cloth, Stephen kicked your foot. You jolted back to reality and blinked a few times. Flarg, these lights were so florking bright.</p><p>“I-I’m sorry.” You squinted. “Can you please repeat the question?”</p><p>“If you were given a ten million dollar budget to oversee your own technological team, what would you prioritize?”</p><p>“Um...”</p><p>Answer, yes. You had an answer. And it was a good one.</p><p>The moderator raised her eyebrows. </p><p>“Do you need me to repeat the question..again?”</p><p>“No, no. I would, um…”</p><p>As you gave your best answer, Stephen’s eyes flickered to Tony in the front row of the audience. They were both surprised you even made it through the introductions.</p><p>What was wrong with you?</p><p>When it was time to leave the hotel that morning, Tony knocked on your room door. But when you threw it open, your face instantly twisted as you shook your head. You rushed to the bathroom and puked, having barely anything to upheave in the first place. </p><p>Tony stepped into your room and looked around. </p><p>“Something wrong with my face, Sparkles? Because that’s not really the reaction I was hoping for.”</p><p>He cautiously peered into the trash can, unsure if he was relieved or disappointed at the lack of evidence. </p><p>As you quickly brushed your teeth, Tony leaned on the bathroom doorway and crossed his arms.</p><p>“You feeling okay enough for this?”</p><p>“Yeah, just sobering to reality.”</p><p>“Ohhh, it was one of those dreams. Was it me or the wolf-dog?”</p><p>“Tony.”</p><p>You rolled out your shoulders and met him in the doorway.</p><p>“I’m fine.” You patted his chest. “Let’s go.”</p><p>The conference started with a hit speech from Tony. But halfway through, your eyes fluttered closed and your temple tapped Stephen’s shoulder. Upon the moment of contact, you jolted yourself awake.</p><p>Stephen furrowed his brow and glanced at his shoulder. You’ve worked eighteen-hour shifts on five hours of sleep. You knew how to handle sleep deprivation. And even then, you two didn’t stay up that late. At least...last night.</p><p>But by the time one of Tony’s MIT buddies got up to talk, you gave into your fate. Resting your head on Stephen’s shoulder, you wrapped your arms around his as your eyes closed.</p><p>“Let me know when it’s time for lunch.”</p><p>When it was finally time for the first morning intermission, Stephen didn’t move as people shuffled around him. You cracked your eyes open and furrowed your brow.</p><p>“Are we leaving?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>The next talk on your itinerary was on growing bones and cartilage outside the human body. But that was two rooms down. Stephen smirked as a few people wandered in for the next speech on pacemakers in your current auditorium. </p><p>It didn’t matter. His name alone could get him a private conversation with the osteopathic researchers if he really wanted to hear about their work. Pacemakers would just have to do.</p><p>As the auditorium drained itself of people by the end of the presentation, Stephen woke himself with a gentle snore. </p><p>Thank God it was finally over.</p><p>Disturbed by his shift in body weight, you blinked yourself to awareness. Stephen cocked an eyebrow.</p><p>“Have you eaten anything today?”</p><p>“Just a piece of toast. But I left it back at my room.”</p><p>“Stay here.”</p><p>He patted your knee before standing up. You instantly missed the warmth.</p><p>“What for? They have a special—”</p><p>“Do you really want to small talk with Stark’s MIT buddies over lunch?”</p><p>“No.” </p><p>“Then stay here.”</p><p>After a stretch and quick trip to the restroom, you picked at your nails and waited for Stephen’s return. Even as your mind tried to wander to your problem at hand, you forced it out, out, out of your thoughts. </p><p>It was not the time to figure out the rest of your life or what you would do next. Right now, all you had to do was…</p><p>“Eat.” Stephen handed you a plate with a fork and napkin tucked underneath.</p><p>With a swallow, you accepted the offering and proceeded to ignore his instructions; choosing to pick at a defiant looking carrot.</p><p>Stephen narrowed his eyes at you.</p><p>“Did you call him? Your...boyfriend?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Do you need to call him? Are you concerned about the time apart?”</p><p>“What? No. He’s a grown man. He can take care of himself.”</p><p>“Okay, then what did that carrot do to you?”</p><p>You sucked in a breath, having massacred the entire structural integrity of the vegetable.</p><p>“Thanks for letting me borrow your shoulder.”</p><p>“Well, I certainly wasn’t using it.”</p><p>“I just, I couldn’t sleep last night. But I don’t want to talk about it.”</p><p>Stephen pursed his lips and nodded. At this point, he figured he’d just have to run out the clock. You weren’t going to hold onto whatever went unsaid forever.</p><p>By the time of your panel, you barely made it through the introductions without giving Tony and Stephen matching heart attacks. Although they would have had to drop their bodies right on top of you if they really wanted to get your undivided attention.</p><p>The moderator redirected her questions to the other panelists. When you finally reached the salvation of your first intermission, you dragged Stephen aside and glared at him.</p><p>“What are you doing?” you hissed. “You’re blowing this!”</p><p>“I’m the one who’s blowing this? You seem to have forgotten your own name.”</p><p>“You haven’t said anything about your transected spinal cords or neurogenesis in the central nervous system. What is going on with you?”</p><p>What were you talking about? Of course he...he…</p><p>Goddamn. You were right. Why was this becoming a recurring trend with you?</p><p>What was going on with him? He was completely distracted. But he was only distracted because you were distracted. </p><p>Stephen prided himself for his mental focus. It did take more than a good memory to simultaneously get a PhD and MD, after all. But with you...he’d never been so easily distracted in his life.</p><p>When it was time to return to the panel, you wrapped your hands on either side of his face.</p><p>“Please take up on this opportunity. You could get some incredible funding or partnerships from this. You have to do this. For both of us.”</p><p>As if his bodily control was beyond his conscious volition, Stephen placed his hand over yours and drew in a breath.</p><p>“Oh-okay.”</p><p>He gave your hand a squeeze and began to withdraw from your touch, missing the warmth in an instant.</p><p>You barely survived to the end of the panel. </p><p>The moderator smiled. “I just have one final question for every panelist. What do you love most about your job?”</p><p>With you sitting on the far left, she gave you a nod to begin. Your mouth hung open for a moment but you drew in a breath as a gentle grin crept across your lips.</p><p>“The kids. Literally everything I do is to help them not just have to opportunity to live happier and healthier lives, but to truly feel deserving of them. If they learn early on that they have no limitations, just imagine what the world could look like a generation from now. I am a woman of science. But the magic happens when I can help my patients strengthen their faith...their faith in themselves.”</p><p>“Quite admirable,” the moderator followed up. </p><p>You ignored Tony putting his hand over his chest and overenthusiastically beaming at you.</p><p>The moderator nodded to Stephen. “Doctor Strange?”</p><p>Clasping his hands over the table, Stephen cleared his throat and leaned forward.</p><p>“Being wrong,” he answered.</p><p>You whipped your head around with wide eyes.</p><p>“We are all scientists,” he continued. “We hypothesize, theorize, and extrapolate. But for all the certainty we pursue, the most profound breakthroughs happen because we are incorrect. If we allow it, error stokes the fires of curiosity and determination.”</p><p>He smirked at you.</p><p>“But to more appropriately answer your question, instead of continuing my philosophical monologue, some of the most profound breakthroughs of my career I owe entirely to the unexpected and, yes, my initial error in judgment. </p><p>“To which I say, I have never been more grateful to be wrong. If I had my appendix removed at twelve instead of twenty-seven by a surgeon of such high-caliber as the one sitting next to me, perhaps I would be a man of enough faith to call these anomalies ‘miracles’.”</p><p>Stephen looked at you as you smiled and redirected your attention to your tea. The moderator followed up with the rest of the panelists. But you could only feel the pair of eyes fixated on your face.</p><p>By the time the auditorium cleared out, Tony leaped to the stage and patted you on the back.</p><p>“I’m just so proud,” he cooed and pinched your cheeks.</p><p>“Tony, can we just get back to the hotel?”</p><p>“Sure thing, Sparkles. My little inspiration.” He shook Stephen’s hand and smirked. “I’m going to love proving you wrong over and over and over again.”</p><p>“That implies you’ll finally be right. To which I would call that a miracle.”</p><p>Tony rolled his eyes and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, leading you out of the auditorium.</p><p>“So I’ll pick you up at eight?” he asked.</p><p>“You mean, walk two feet from your door and meet me at mine?”</p><p>“What can I say? I take door-to-door service very seriously.”</p><p>“Doctor Stange, can you fend for yourself tonight?”</p><p>“Please, don’t let me crash your date.”</p><p>“Dude,” Tony groaned. “She’s got a boyfriend.”</p><p>“Eight sounds great, Tony.” You patted his chest before Stephen replied.</p><p>Following through on his word, Tony returned you back to the hotel. As 8 pm approached, Stephen considered checking in on you five, six, oh to hell with it. He was definitely in double digits now.</p><p>But, committed to his personal promise, he called Christine instead to give her a quick update while she wrapped up a surgery.</p><p>“I’m sure you dazzled them,” she spoke into the phone, held by a nurse. “Although they might have dropped dead of exhaustion if you went on a monologue.”</p><p>He chuckled and dragged his hand down his face.</p><p>“That’s what those four thuds in the back were?”</p><p>“So much for do no harm.” She smirked. “You’ve got one more day of this?”</p><p>“Yeah, we’re heading out first thing Monday morning.”</p><p>“I'm already looking forward to it.”</p><p>“Me, me too.”</p><p>“I love you.”</p><p>“I lo—” But he whipped his head around upon a demanding knock on the door. “I have to call you later.”</p><p>Stephen hung up and threw open the door, only to furrow his brow at Tony’s face.</p><p>“She’s with you, right?” Tony stomped into his room and looked around. “Sparkles?”</p><p>Stephen checked his watch.</p><p>8:14</p><p>“You’re supposed to be at dinner.”</p><p>“Great deduction, Sherlock. She’s not in her room. She’s not with you. Where the hell is she?”</p><p>But Tony sucked in a breath when his phone started ringing.</p><p>“Stark,” he answered, narrowing his eyes at whatever was happening on the other end of the line. “Ah, shit.”</p><p>He hung up and dashed out the door, inciting Stephen to chase after him.</p><p>“Where is she?” Stephen asked.</p><p>“The hotel….what the Sparkles….”</p><p>Tony and Stephen entered the hotel bar to see you standing on top of a table with a bottle of—oh my God, that was tequila—in hand.</p><p>“Anthony Edward Stark,” you sang. “Just the man I was waiting for.”</p><p>You hopped down and draped your arms over his shoulders, sloshing the bottle with you.</p><p>“Sparkles, what happened to you?”</p><p>But you rammed your lips to his before he could react. Eyes wide open, he shoved you off him and twisted his expression in pure confusion.</p><p>“Okay, you have had too mu—”</p><p>You fisted his shirt and yanked him closer.</p><p>“My life is going up in flames and I feel like cheating on my boyfriend tonight. And who better to defile than his best friend?”</p><p>Tony slowly turned his head to take in Stephen’s equally horrified face. </p><p>Well, you certainly weren’t pregnant.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Tiny Dancer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am once again writing my personal trauma into my characters. Warning for implied sexual abuse.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Did, did you call him?” Tony stammered. “What did he do this time?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tony, Tony.” You trailed your fingers through his hair and smirked. “Do you really want to talk about my boyfriend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Stephen reached to relieve your hand of the tequila bottle, you jerked back from Tony and took a swig.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Juswhatdoyou think you’re doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How much did you drink?” Stephen squinted at the bottle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you, don’t you go doctor on me, Doctor Strange. Because I can doctor myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a groan, Tony grabbed your wrist and started dragging you out of the bar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on. We’re getting you out of here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I’ve been trying to do! Didn’t, didn’t think I’d have to work so hard for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sipped your liquid dinner and giggled as Stephen chased after you. He cut Tony off at the elevator, putting his hand over the buttons before Tony could touch them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You. Are. Not. Taking her upstairs.” Stephen glared at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony grunted as you started peppering kisses along his jawline. He struggled to simultaneously hold onto you and keep you at arm’s length.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going to have sex with her!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” you pouted and threw your head back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s going to be puking her guts out by the time that bottle’s empty. And I’m taking her somewhere she can remedy that in private.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony held up his palm just as you leaned in again, planting a kiss to his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please tell me that was less than half full by the time you got a hold of it, Sparkles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, I don’t remember.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take her to my room,” Stephen said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Back the hell off. Don’t you have a girlfriend to get back to? Convenient how she hasn’t come up once in this conversation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just down the hallway. She doesn’t have the best history with elevators. Unless you want to clean her vomit off you inside a metal box.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen yanked the bottle from your hand. You whined in reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, mine!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when he rolled his eyes, you redirected your focus to Tony and wrapped your arms around his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm, no. This is what I want.” Threading your fingers through his hair, you tugged his head to the side and licked a stripe behind his ear. “You like my mouth filthy. Why don’t you shove yourself down my throat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, Sparkles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With one hand around your upper back, Tony hooked his other arm beneath your knees. He lifted you off the floor and nodded to Stephen, granting him permission to lead you to his room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Tony carried you, you leaned in to decorate his face with desperate affection. But, to your disappointment, he continued to jerk his head to the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tony, where are we going?” you pouted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Santa’s workshop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this a fetish thing I should know about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At his room, Stephen threw open the door and held it for you and Tony. When you passed through the doorway, you swiped the bottle of tequila from his hand. He lurched forward to retrieve it. But not before you managed to down another gulp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“HEY!” you whined when he stole it back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony gently laid you on top of the bed. But as he started to pull away, you yanked him on top of you in a fit of giggles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sparkles, we are not…” he grunted, trying to separate himself from you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damn, you were a determined drunk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeing Stephen over his shoulder, you furrowed your brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tony, we can’t, not with, he has a Christine! We can’t in here when he as a Chris-Christine!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sparkles, I really need you to take your hands off me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why? You’re always trying to get me in bed. Here I am. In a bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You wrapped your hand along the side of his face and pulled him into a kiss. And for half a millisecond, Tony let himself kiss you back. Just as he started to withdraw, Stephen yanked him off you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew I couldn’t trust you with her like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his focus entirely transfixed on you, Tony loosened his tie and gulped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t, we’re not doing this, Sparkles. We got...what’s his face in the room. Remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But Isaac doesn’t know how to sex me. I know you can do a better job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony dragged his hands down his face and groaned. Clenching his jaw, Stephen positioned himself in front of Tony and glared at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not, I’m not going to ask.” Tony held up his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You leaned over and tapped Stephen’s hip, requesting he move over and grant you access to the target of your attention. But when he refused to move (or even look at you—not that you noticed), you collapsed back to the bed with a huff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been with him for eight, or is it ten? Or lots? Lots of years and I never once got off with him,” you moaned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You what?!” Tony blurted out, mouth reacting before his brain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen rammed his forearm to Tony’s chest and shoved him against the wall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t listen to this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want to do?” Tony hissed. “Leave her alone in your room drunk and horny?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe she’ll just…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take care of it herself. If we leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But both their eyes darted to you when you sat upright and shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He said there was prob-probably something wrong with me. But I tried it all out. Test-tested the equipment per se and I’m not...not defective.” You furrowed your brow. “What’s wrong with me? I can’t even cheat on him right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony’s eyes flickered to the arm still pressed against him then to Stephen’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You gonna kiss me yet or back the hell off? Because I kinda need you to commit either way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when Stephen only glared at him, Tony drew in a breath and narrowed his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would never take advantage of her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You picked at your nails and mumbled to yourself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe it’s because of the thing in Denver. He didn’t,” you hiccupped, “didn’t want me to go to the police. I didn’t wanna go to the...they don’t listen to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In an instant, Tony shoved Stephen off of him and stared at you. He had nearly every significant event of your relationship carefully anthologized in his brain. But Denver? He didn’t know of any bad memories that corresponded with the Mile High City.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the edge of the bed, Tony crouched down and looked into your eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sparkles...what happened in Denver?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I’m not supposed to talk about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know you can tell me anything. If I can keep the secret about the wolf-dog, I’ll keep all your secrets for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You bit your lip and paused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He just...he said I wasn’t experienced enough to know what he was doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every muscle in Tony’s body turned to stone. But you bit your nails and shook your head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that,” you whispered, “is that why you didn’t tell me about the part-party you threw? That, the sex thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sparkles.” Tony tenderly wrapped his hands around the sides of your face. “I’m only telling you this because I know for a fact that you are so plastered you won’t remember a word in the morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I don’t have a photo-Stephen memory.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your boyfriend is a piece of shit and I’m going to murder him the next time I see him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You latched your hand over his wrist with wide eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Tony! You can’t go and, you can’t hurt him. Don’t hurt, promise me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Frankly, the only reason I haven’t yet is because I know it would destroy you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pro-promise!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your boyfriend is the jackass who planned that sex party—not that anyone he touched enjoyed themselves as you just told me—and he swore that you were coming...to the party. But I’m the one who texted you from some rando’s phone so you would walk in on that mess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t hurt him, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought if you finally saw it, you’d get it. But when I saw the look on your face, I thought I made a mistake. So I said that I orchestrated everything because I know that I’m a joke to you. And while we may enjoy slathering sarcasm over our interactions, I mean every word I say to you. And I know you mean every word you say to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think...I think I’m going to be sick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, me too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony rose to his feet and helped you off the bed. You stumbled to steady yourself as he led you to the bathroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the doorway, he paused and looked at Stephen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or do you wanna hold her hair back? Check her vitals or whatever?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gritting his teeth, Stephen slumped in a chair as he listened to you puke your guts out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony held your hair back and whispered in your ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to be okay. I’ve got you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He handed you a tissue. After you wiped the corner of your mouth, you looked down at the bright red stains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I…” You touched the edge of your lips, eyes widening at Tony’s palm. “You, you cut your hand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony wiped his hand on his Armani trousers. “S’nothing there. See?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, like, like magic. You really are a superhero.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, Sparkles. I’m anything you want me to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kissed the top of your head just before you threw your face over the bowl of the toilet again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When your stomach was completely empty (and then some), you staggered back into Stephen’s room and wrinkled your nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t, I’m not...bad. That was a bad idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did she eat anything today?” Tony asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pursing his lips, Stephen shook his head. Tony grabbed a water bottle from the mini-fridge. But by the time he turned back around, you already collapsed to the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just, just so tired,” you mumbled into the pillow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony drew in a breath and looked at Stephen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay with—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen swallowed and shifted his weight in the chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isaac, who are you talking to?” Eyes still closed, you flopped over and ran your hand over the bedspread. “It’s late, it’s bedtime.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony glanced at Stephen. “Do you, um, you got this?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be back first thing in the morning. After I kill him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But who will help you dispose of the body?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a snort, Tony exited the room; completely at a loss for what to do about your piece of shit boyfriend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You flopped back on your stomach and whimpered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could always get underneath the covers,” Stephen grumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He held his breath, pounding of his heart ever-present.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen was rarely in a position of uncertainty. But even he had to admit that he didn’t know what the fuck to do about everything you just mistakenly revealed to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span>, however, know exactly how to address ailments of the body. That was the one problem of yours he was completely equipped to fix.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You squeaked as the weight of the bed shifted, releasing an exhale when a warm body wrapped around you. Replicating the events of a few months ago, Stephen tucked his nose into your hair and drew you close to him. He couldn’t see the gentle smile that crept across your lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm, I love you,” you whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so, so happy you can finally say it back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes...Me too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next morning, you woke up to the sensation of your skull splitting open and sandpaper in your mouth. You cracked an eye open, instantly closing it as the sunlight barely peeked through the curtains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You groaned, pressing your palm to your forehead and leaning upright.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rookie mistake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning, Sparkles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tony, I’m not your mail order stripper.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The fact that you think there are mail order strippers is just adorable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, farts. You, you actually call me that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daring to open your eyes, you glanced around the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Empty bed. Different suitcase. Tony staring at you from a chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where am I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But you held your breath upon seeing the watch on the nightstand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I may feel like I had a craniotomy. But what am I doing in Doctor Strange’s room?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You went wild, Sparkles. Got drunk off your ass, danced on the tables in the hotel bar, belted out Elton John.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Elton John?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To this day, the most haunting rendition of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tiny Dancer</span>
  </em>
  <span> I have ever heard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh God, no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh God, yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it was between watching you hurl all over that beautiful elevator or—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bring me here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wear a hangover well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned over and handed you a bottle of water. As you cracked the lid open, you turned your head at a knock on the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s your room anyway,” you mumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coast is clear, Keebler!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tony. Loud.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, Sparkles. It’s not like he was going to hear you grumbling to yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Stephen entered the room, he gently closed the door behind him and looked you up and down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you feel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like I’m missing a piece of my skull. Where did you stay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was it a good swap?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But before Stephen had to fake an answer, you spat out your water and stared at Tony.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my God. We have the rest of the, you have to, your conference!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but I...fuck. I ruined it. I ruined everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony shrugged. “They’re talking about electrodes for deep brain stimulation this morning. I’ll pass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You looked at Stephen, remorse overflowing from your eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you, you would have loved that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sparkles, he got to listen to you drunkenly serenade him to the tune of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hey Jude</span>
  </em>
  <span> so I doubt the guy’s complaining.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, please tell me I didn’t…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Stephen raised his eyebrows. “But I’ve heard worse. Take your boyfriend’s music, for example.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony’s eyes darted to Stephen. But he breathed a sigh of relief when you chuckled, instantly regretting the notion and pinching the bridge of your nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should call him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” they both shouted, far too florking loud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” you whimpered. “Too, too many decibels.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.” Tony rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a hard swallow, your gaze drifted from the covers to their faces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I owe you both an explanation,” you croaked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen furrowed his brow. “You don’t owe us anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I, I really do. It’s going to come out sooner or later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They exchanged a confused glance as you set the water bottle on the nightstand, giving the watch its first company for many, many hours. Yes, it was counting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You drew in a deep breath and gulped, looking at Tony.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think...I think I lost my job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen’s lips parted as he stared at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s what the board wanted to talk to you about at 8:45 on a Friday morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were screwed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And...getting sued.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Doorway</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Friday morning, you exited the conference room with twisting knots in your stomach. You blinked a few times and covered your mouth. But before you could puke all over the hallway, the office drained itself of all the suits.</p><p>So many florking suits.</p><p>One of the hospital lawyers widened his eyes at you.</p><p>“You, you going to be sick?”</p><p>You shook your head.</p><p>Glancing over his shoulder, he led you around the corner and sucked in a breath.</p><p>“Between you and me, they don’t have a case. It’s the...other thing you have to worry about.”</p><p>After a gulp, you gave him a nod.</p><p>“Good luck.” He patted your shoulder and dashed down the hallway.</p><p>Now, you sat across from Tony at the table in your hotel room. Wrinkling your nose, you prodded your egg-white omelet. He flipped through the pages of the document you begrudgingly produced for him.</p><p>“This thing looks disgusting,” you grumbled.</p><p>On the other side of your room, Stephen crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.</p><p>“Don’t eat anything Stark would.” He glared at Tony. “Are you almost done with that? Or do you read ten words per minute?”</p><p>“Solution is easy.” Tony tossed the papers aside.</p><p>Grinding his teeth, Stephen leaned over and snatched the evidence from the floor.</p><p>“Easy?” you scoffed, mashing your eggs with your fork.</p><p>“Yeah, you counter sue.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“If she publishes that article, you counter sue her for libel.”</p><p>“Tony, I can’t do that.”</p><p>“I can.”</p><p>Three paragraphs in, Stephen threw the pages on the bed. </p><p>“Jacob’s mother is…”</p><p>“An investigative reporter for the New York Times,” you finished for him.</p><p>“And while they barely have a competent malpractice case against you, the board is concerned about this getting published.”</p><p>“They suspended me...indefinitely.”</p><p>“What she wrote in there is not only inaccurate, but it’s ruining your career.” Tony gestured to the papers strewn across the bed. “You are going to counter sue.”</p><p>“But that’s the thing, Tony. Everything she said in there is a version of the truth. Doctor Strange gave me a two-second consult when I first—”</p><p>“How did she know about the initial consult?” Stephen narrowed his eyes.</p><p>“Who else?”</p><p>“Not Billy.”</p><p>“No, Mia.”</p><p>“The kid? She wasn’t even in the room. She could barely—”</p><p>“But she did know that our conversation was brief. I doubt she knew what the questions were really about. But, God. This woman was thorough. She makes me sound like I was drunk with power trying to keep every possible resource away from her son. Which, from her perspective, is all true.”</p><p>“You, you weren’t even in the OR,” Stephen stammered. “It was my, I was the one who…”</p><p>“I’m in his file as the one who called time of death.”</p><p>You and Stephen stared at each other for a weighted moment in time. But Tony rose to his feet and shook his head.</p><p>“This is all circumstantial at best.” Tony slammed his eyes closed. “And you’re the one who actually operated on the kid. Why aren’t they suing you?”</p><p>“Tony, it’s not his fault.”</p><p>“He’s the one who carved into the kid’s brain. I don’t under—”</p><p>“Tony!” You bolted upright. “Leave. Him. Alone.”</p><p>“Oh-okay.”</p><p>Dragging your hands down your face, you drew in a breath and shook your head.</p><p>“They just want to feel like someone is responsible. And I, I don’t blame them. This is what insurance is for. If I just settle—”</p><p>“Settle for something that isn’t even your damn fault? And what about your job?”</p><p>“I moved before. I can do it again.”</p><p>“No,” Stephen demanded. “You’re not, not leaving. Not because of my mistake.”</p><p>“I wasn’t even supposed to talk to anyone about the details. Let alone let you read that thing. You two are just so florking stubborn. It’s fine. I’m going to be fine.”</p><p>You gathered up the papers and shoved them in your bag. </p><p>“Sparkles—”</p><p>“Tony. I am telling you to leave this alone.”</p><p>With a hard swallow, Tony paused and examined your expression. But, remembering how things worked out the last time he tried to help you, he put his hands in his pockets and nodded.</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“Okay?” Stephen scowled at him. “You’re just going to—”</p><p>“You’ll let me know if you need anything?” Tony raised his eyebrows.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Then okay.”</p><p>“I can’t believe this,” Stephen scoffed. “So you are just the moronic—”</p><p>“Sparkles, I think you need to clean up.”</p><p>“What? I’m—”</p><p>Tony jerked forward, sending your omelet careening to your lap.</p><p>“Tony!”</p><p>“Ah! Looks like you better change. We’ll just duck out while you powder your nose and, um, get some new pants.”</p><p>Tony shoved Stephen out the door as you whimpered and picked spinach from your legs.</p><p>“Don’t meddle in this.” He rammed a finger to Stephen’s chest.</p><p>“I don’t work for you. You can’t—”</p><p>“You are new to this game. While you may get points for enthusiasm, you’re not getting a participation ribbon. Because you. Can’t. Help. Her.”</p><p>“I’ve been sued before. It’s incredibly common. Especially for specialized surgeons. I know how to—”</p><p>“Listen to me.” Tony pressed his palmed together and gestured to Stephen. “You. Cannot. Help her. She will bite your head off. And if you value your friendship or whatever it is you two have, you will leave this to me.”</p><p>“Is this part of your hero complex?”</p><p>Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. </p><p>“The only person she let help her with anything was...well, you know who. And he always found a way to fuck things up even more. So now she just...doesn’t let anyone help her. With anything.”</p><p>“Then what are you going to do?”</p><p>“That’s for me to worry about.”</p><p>He pounded his knuckles on the door. </p><p>“Hey, Sparkles! You ready for some real food?”</p><p>Narrowing your eyes, you threw open the door and pouted your lip.</p><p>“I really liked those sweats.”</p><p>He looked you up and down. “But I like those jeans even more.”</p><p>“Ugh, let’s go.”</p><p>As you strode down the hallway with Tony’s arm around your shoulder, Stephen rubbed the back of his neck.</p><p>“Go ahead. I need to call Christine.”</p><p>“Oh.” You smiled and looked over your shoulder. “Tell her I say hi.”</p><p>“Sure, I will.”</p><p>As Stephen retreated to his room, your breakfast with Tony went exactly as you expected. </p><p>Plenty of grease, his usual flirtation, but admittedly an abnormal number of questions about Isaac’s favorite tour destinations.</p><p>“What about Mountain Standard Time?”</p><p>“Tony, why don’t you just talk to Isaac about this? I don’t know anything about his tours. Except that he’s not really...doing anything right now.”</p><p>“Sure, Sparkles. I was just curious about your perspective. With him being on the road and all.”</p><p>“Yeah, I don’t know. I don’t really want to talk about him.”</p><p>Funny, he didn’t either.</p><p>“But I just…” You gulped. “I don’t know how I’m going to tell him.”</p><p>“That you can sing better than he can? Even drunk off your ass?”</p><p>“Tony...everyone told me that I wouldn’t be able to make it. Because I was, I got too attached to them. They told me I was unprofessional and that it would eventually catch up to me.”</p><p>“Sparkles.”</p><p>“But Isaac...He said I could do anything. He always says that I’m so smart. But if I’m so smart, how could I...How am I going to tell him?”</p><p>“He’s lucky you even bother to talk to him.”</p><p>“I’m serious, Tony. He’s the only one who supported my career and now I, I let him down. I really let him down.”</p><p>He reached over the table and squeezed your hand.</p><p>“You could never be a disappointment to anyone.”</p><p>“I hate to ask this of you, but is it okay if we head back home?”</p><p>“Anything you need, you ask.”</p><p>“Okay...thank you.”</p><p>“Get used to saying it.”</p><p> </p><p>When the Stark Industries jet was in the air, you sat on the couch next to Stephen and nodded to him.</p><p>“What are you reading?”</p><p>“Adult Neurogenesis in the Mammalian Brain.”</p><p>Tony snickered, “I’m waiting for the movie.”</p><p>Rolling his eyes, Stephen flipped the page. You leaned in to rest your forearm on his shoulder and get a better look.</p><p>“Any good findings?”</p><p>“They have more questions than answers.”</p><p>“Mm, just the way you like it.”</p><p>He looked at you, side of his face barely brushing against your hair as he turned his head.</p><p>“What makes you say that?”</p><p>“The more questions other people have, the more you get to answer.”</p><p>Stephen snickered and held up the pages. “Would you like to answer for me?”</p><p>“No, but I’ll read to you.”</p><p>“Read to me?”</p><p>“Yeah. I can tell you have something you’re trying to work out in that brilliant, infuriating brain of yours.” You tapped his temple with a smirk. “I’ll read to you. Might help you access some new solutions.”</p><p>Furrowing his brow, Stephen’s eyes flickered to Tony. But he tilted his head back when Tony only smirked and took a sip of his drink.</p><p>Because, having played this game for many years, Tony knew that for every person you loved, you also fell a little bit in love with them. The lines blurred and you simply couldn’t help giving pieces of your heart away.</p><p>Even to the most undeserving of individuals. </p><p>This asshole would probably silently love you for years; all the while assuming you thought nothing more of him than his arrogance. He had so fucking much of it, after all. But Tony still hoped that one day even this guy would see it too. </p><p>Your silent love was the loudest of them all.</p><p>With bright eyes and a gentle smile, you gestured for Stephen to recline on the couch. Resting his head in your lap, he clasped his hands over his stomach.</p><p>“Comfortable?” You scratched his head.</p><p>“Um, yeah.”</p><p>Flipping through the pages of the journal, you grinned at the section on the lateral ventricle and olfactory bulb. </p><p>Yes, this was just as good a place as any to begin.</p><p>The rest of the flight was a blur as you traversed the Rocky Mountains, four time zones, and a second study on laminectomy recovery times. </p><p>And while you filled the room with discoveries, theories, and queries about the central nervous system, a spell of silence fell over the cabin. Even when you landed, no one dared speak beyond the occasional instructional directive. </p><p>Tony drove you and Stephen to your apartment. </p><p>He carefully noted the ways your fingers tapped along your knees. But you occupied most of the ride by staring out the window. Stephen followed suit, barring the infrequent text message to occupy his mind.</p><p>When you arrived outside your front door, your heart leaped into your throat at the sound of voices from inside.</p><p>“I am going to kill him,” Tony growled.</p><p>Just as Stephen reached out to put his hand on your shoulder, you rushed to position yourself between Tony and the door.</p><p>“Tony, I-I can handle this.”</p><p>You turned around and, with trembling hands, jiggled your key into the lock. But when you opened the door, you sucked in a breath to see Isaac…</p><p>...Holding onto a squirming Samoyed puppy.</p><p>“Surprise?” He grimaced.</p><p>Mouth hanging open, you pointed to him as he set down the puppy.</p><p>“Dog.”</p><p>“Yeah, I thought...since we kinda talked about, you know...”</p><p>“Dog.”</p><p>“Oh God. Was I supposed to wait until you got back? Because I thought you’d like the—HEY!” He scrambled to pick up the puppy as it continued shredding one of your magazines. “She just, I dunno. Made me think of you.”</p><p>“What’s her name?” You furrowed your brow.</p><p>“I didn’t, I didn’t name her yet. I wanted to wait for you to—Ah! No! We do not use our teeth to communicate like that!”</p><p>Stephen and Tony cautiously turned to look at your dumbstruck face. But when Isaac plopped the puppy to the floor, she scrambled in your direction. The men remained frozen as you blinked a few times when she started gnawing on your shoe.</p><p>But everyone flinched as you dropped to the floor with a squeak that, they swear, should only be heard by dogs. </p><p>Tony raised his eyebrows as you buried your hands in her fur with a myriad of high-pitched squeals and screeches.</p><p>“I’ll take that as a yes,” Isaac laughed.</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“I mean, can we keep her?”</p><p>“Er my goooodness. You are just SO FLUFFY!” You scratched her ears.</p><p>“Wanna give her a name, babe?”</p><p>“Your name doesn’t even matter,” you cooed. “Because you answer to belly rubs!”</p><p>Scooping up the puppy, you sprang to your feet and grinned.</p><p>“I’ll think about it.”</p><p>“Alright, sounds good.” He put his hands on his hips and grinned. “So the conference was so boring you all had to come back early?”</p><p>Tony crossed his arms. “Something like that.”</p><p>You plopped the puppy on the couch. She immediately resumed her fascination with your magazine. </p><p>With a smile that none of the men had seen on your face (at least, for quite some time for some), you threw your arms around Isaac. Squeezing him tight, you peppered kisses along the side of his face before dotingly pressing your lips to his.</p><p>“I think I’ve got competition.” He grinned.</p><p>“Oh no. That means you stand a chance.” You cupped his face in your hands and smiled. “Thank you so much. I love you.”</p><p>“God, I lo—NO! Those are keys.” Isaac lurched forward to grab your keys from between your dog’s teeth.</p><p>You spun around and smiled at Tony and Stephen.</p><p>“Thanks for the weekend. Although I didn’t need a two person escort to the door.”</p><p>“You’ll reach out if you need anything, Sparkles?”</p><p>“I promise.”</p><p>“Get used to saying that.” He winked at you before patting Stephen on the shoulder. “You calling a cab from here?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Right answer.”</p><p>As they started to exit your apartment, you bolted to the door and tackled Stephen in a hug.</p><p>“Just don’t, don’t tell Christine,” you whispered in his ear. “I wasn’t supposed to talk about it.”</p><p>“I, um, I won’t.”</p><p>“Thank you. For everything. Take care of yourself.”</p><p>“You too.”</p><p>You peeled yourself from his body and rubbed your hands over your knees. </p><p>“Alright, boys. It’s been a party. We’ll talk later.”</p><p>“Talk soon.” Tony pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “Doctor Sparkles.”</p><p>Isaac closed the door when you raced inside, your mind filling with possibilities as the pain of the last few days drifted back into the past.</p><p>Sure, you’d tell him.</p><p>Eventually.</p><p>But for now, you finally won a disagreement. You had yourself a puppy to love.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes. We are going to address what happened to Sparkles. I just ask for your patience. This is, in many ways, a retelling of my life. So I ask for your grace in your feedback. Also, <a href="https://melanoms.tumblr.com/post/636605681886183424/no-not-you-my-love-you-are-not-gaslighting-us">here's a longer author's note as to why she's still with this guy.</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. It's a Beautiful Day to Change Lives</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The hospital was haunted by your absence.</p>
<p>The lobby felt quieter. The lights seemed dimmer. And the elevator…</p>
<p>It felt empty...regardless of capacity. </p>
<p>At least, if you were referencing the Gospel According to Stephen Strange.</p>
<p>Christine was more than thrilled by his early arrival. He almost forgot to call her when you returned to Manhattan. But, staying committed to his silent promise to do better, he came home to his girlfriend; relieved that at least he didn’t have to come home to a dog.</p>
<p>Your puppy seemed okay though. </p>
<p>Christine asked him for his unbridled review of the conference. But even as she gave him enthusiastic updates about the latest idiots in the ER, Stephen caught his mind drift, drift, drifting to your mutual problem over and over again.</p>
<p>You not working at Metro-General was simply unacce—</p>
<p>“Stephen.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>Oh shit. </p>
<p>Christine was straddling him on the couch. When did she...when did they start...where were his hands...Oh God.</p>
<p>“Are you okay?” She cocked an eyebrow.</p>
<p>“Yeah, um…” He dragged his hands over his hair. “I just, I’m trying to…”</p>
<p>“You’re disappointed you’re home.”</p>
<p>“No, I-I’m relieved that—”</p>
<p>With a huff, Christine threw herself off him. </p>
<p>“I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. I feel like no matter what I do, you’re always—”</p>
<p>And that’s when it hit him.</p>
<p>“I’m getting sued.”</p>
<p>Christine looked at him with wide eyes. “You’re getting sued?”</p>
<p>“Yes, I’m getting sued.”</p>
<p>“By the family of the kid with the brain stem glioma?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“But I thought you—”</p>
<p>“I thought I did too.”</p>
<p>She dragged her hands down her face and leaned back. </p>
<p>“Stephen, I’m so sorry.”</p>
<p>“No, I-I should have told you.”</p>
<p>“They’re going to settle?”</p>
<p>“It’s likely. I have good insurance. Going to court would be a nuisance.”</p>
<p>After a deep breath, Christine repositioned herself to face him. </p>
<p>“Is there anything I can do?”</p>
<p>“No,” Stephen sighed, wrapping his hand along the side of her face. “I’ll sort everything out this week.”</p>
<p>He leaned to kiss her, apology still lingering on his lips. </p>
<p>Goddamn, you were infuriatingly distracting. From that high-pitch squeak to your knowledge of decent musicians to the feeling of his head in your lap, he couldn’t understand this unspoken spell you cast over him.</p>
<p>The only solace he took was that he wasn’t the only one. This was clearly a ‘you’ thing and not about him. Not about him. Not about him. Not about him.</p>
<p>“Stephen?” Christine breathed, arms draped about his neck.</p>
<p>“Hm?”</p>
<p>“Take this to the bedroom?”</p>
<p>What. The fuck. Was he doing?</p>
<p>With a slam, the loudest one he could muster, he closed his mind to all lingering thoughts of you. You were just going to have to wait. </p>
<p>He guided Christine’s lips back to his and smirked.</p>
<p>“Nope.”</p>
<p>But before he even realized it, Sunday melted to Monday. And here he was, at the hospital, without you. Fuck, you were simply inescapable. Or was it the lack of you? Even if he couldn’t identify the culprit of his discomfort, he could do something about it.</p>
<p>Stephen shoved out his chair and strutted out of his office.</p>
<p>“Going on a quick errand.”</p>
<p>“When will you be back?” Billy asked.</p>
<p>He paused at the door. </p>
<p>“I don’t know.” Stephen furrowed his brow. “Maybe the rest of the day.”</p>
<p>The pounding in his chest quickened as he marched from the neurology office to the elevator. From the elevator to the lobby. From the lobby to a taxi. From the taxi to 620 8th Ave.</p>
<p>He pushed past people in the main atrium, rushed through security, and smacked his palm to the counter of an information desk.</p>
<p>“I’m here to speak with Shira Robinson.”</p>
<p>The attendant shook his head. “Unless you have the direct extension or an appointment, I can’t help you. But I can direct you to—”</p>
<p>“I have urgent medical information regarding her son.”</p>
<p>“And you are?”</p>
<p>He flashed his hospital badge.</p>
<p>“I’m Doctor Stephen Strange, neurosurgeon at Metro-General. I’m her son’s doctor. It’s imperative that I speak with her right away.”</p>
<p>“Oh-okay.” The attendant grabbed the phone. After being transferred trice, he cleared his throat. “Yes, I have a Doctor Ste—”</p>
<p>Stephen yanked the phone from his hand. </p>
<p>“Mrs. Robinson, I have details regarding your son’s dea—”</p>
<p>“You know we shouldn’t be talking, Doctor Strange. Leave it to the lawyers.”</p>
<p>“I can tell you everything you need to know about the hospital.”</p>
<p>She paused.</p>
<p>“On the record?”</p>
<p>“On the record as long as you conceal my identity.”</p>
<p>“I’ll be down in five.”</p>
<p>In eight minutes, Stephen sat across from Shira in a conference room. She set a voice recorder on the table and raised her eyebrows. </p>
<p>“Mind if I record this?”</p>
<p>He shoved it in his pocket.</p>
<p>“I’d prefer not.”</p>
<p>“What are you really here for, Doctor Strange?”</p>
<p>“I want to see if we can settle this between the two of us.”</p>
<p>“We’re done here.”</p>
<p>She rose to her feet. But Stephen lurched forward and grabbed her wrist.</p>
<p>“Doctor Strange, let go of me. Or I will—”</p>
<p>“I’ve talked to my lawyers and my insurance company. I am asking you to sue me.” </p>
<p>She furrowed her brow as he yanked a scrap of paper from his pocket.</p>
<p>“I’m prepared to settle. Drop your lawsuit and exposé and this is what I can offer you.”</p>
<p>He handed the paper to her and she tossed it aside.</p>
<p>“You know this isn’t about money,” Shira spat.</p>
<p>“I know. But it’s three times what you’re asking for in your original lawsuit and it’s more than enough to take care of your daughter for the rest of her life. She could get five PhDs, an MD, and a DO and not even make a dent.”</p>
<p>“My daughter will be more than capable of providing for herself when she chooses her career path. Which certainly will not be medicine.”</p>
<p>She took a step forward. But Stephen smacked his palm to the door and positioned himself in front of her.</p>
<p>“Blame me.”</p>
<p>“This isn’t about blame, Doctor Strange. I’m looking for accountability.”</p>
<p>“Then hold me accountable.”</p>
<p>“If you do not move aside, I am calling security.”</p>
<p>“You and I both know that if the case remained in her hands, your son would still be alive today.”</p>
<p>“And if you hadn’t let her doubts seep into your brain, maybe he would have made it off that table.”</p>
<p>“Please. Don’t eclipse your daughter’s life with his death.”</p>
<p>“Now you’re telling me how to be a parent too? Why do I get the nagging suspicion that you aren’t a father? I do have an intuition about people. It's what makes me so good at my job.”</p>
<p>“No, but I am a brother. When my sister died in an entirely preventable accident, my father spent the rest of his life looking for someone to blame. I chased accolade after accolade in hopes of making up for the child he lost. I can’t begin to imagine the pain you are in now. But I do know how grief can poison a family if it’s not adequately addressed.”</p>
<p>Stephen gulped and gripped the doorknob. </p>
<p>“You and I both know that, professionally speaking, no one cared about Jacob’s wellbeing more than…” He looked down and drew in a breath. “Sue me. Let your son finally rest so you can let your daughter live.”</p>
<p>Shira drew in a breath. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, she extended her palm.</p>
<p>“My voice recorder, Doctor Strange.”</p>
<p>Holding his breath, Stephen placed the unused device in her hand, along with his card—the only one he gave out since the hospital provided them many years ago.</p>
<p>“On the back is my personal cell phone number. If you change your mind, contact me and I will make the arrangements with my lawyer.”</p>
<p>He marched out of the room. When he was five steps down the hallway, Shira leaned against the doorway and called out to him.</p>
<p>“Are you going to tell her?”</p>
<p>“That I…” He glanced over his shoulder.</p>
<p>“Was here today?”</p>
<p>Stephen furrowed his brow and swallowed. “No.”</p>
<p>He left without another word.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Back at your apartment, you played tug-o-war with your puppy as Isaac attempted cooking lunch in the kitchen. </p>
<p>“Babe...how do I know if this is done?” He squinted at the chicken in the pan.</p>
<p>“Are the juices clear?”</p>
<p>“I-I don’t know. You should come look. Can you take a look for me?”</p>
<p>“Sure.”</p>
<p>Scratching the dog’s ears, you popped to your feet. But before you could make it to the kitchen, you spun around at a knock on the door.</p>
<p>“Let me get that,” you sang. “I’m sure it’s fine!”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I just don’t want to give you salmonella.”</p>
<p>With a giggle, you threw open the door. But your heart leaped into your throat to see Stephen standing on your new welcome mat. Before the dog could get out, you stepped outside and closed the door.</p>
<p>“Come back when you have tacos?” He cocked an eyebrow. “That’s not very welcoming.”</p>
<p>You rolled your eyes. “Gift from Tony. What are you doing here? You know I can’t talk to you about any of my cases.”</p>
<p>“Did you name her yet?”</p>
<p>“No, I-I haven’t found one that really feels right.”</p>
<p>“You should get her certified. You could bring her to the hospital.”</p>
<p>You crossed your arms and smiled. “If I ever—”</p>
<p>But you sucked in a breath when Stephen placed his hands on either side of your face, directing your gaze to him.</p>
<p>“When you get back,” he corrected. “It’s just a matter of time.”</p>
<p>You placed one hand over his. “So you can suddenly see the future? Didn’t take you as the crystal ball type.”</p>
<p>“And I didn’t take you as the type to lose faith.”</p>
<p>With careful precision, Stephen wrapped his arms around you. He pulled you into an embrace as if all the ailments of your life could be relieved with a healer’s touch. But you separated like repelling magnets when the door swung open.</p>
<p>“Okay, now I’m definitely burning somethi—DOG!”</p>
<p>Stephen scooped up your puppy before she could soar down the hallway. He handed her to you and you nodded to Isaac. </p>
<p>“Just order take out.”</p>
<p>“Now that, I can do.”</p>
<p>He closed the door.</p>
<p>“You know…” Stephen cocked an eyebrow. “You could—”</p>
<p>“I am not naming her after a character from Balto.”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t going to—”</p>
<p>“Yes, you were. I could see it in your eyes.”</p>
<p>“What?” he laughed. “You can’t read that much from a person’s eyes.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t say ‘a person’s’. I said yours.”</p>
<p>Stephen furrowed his brow. But before he let his eyes give anything else away—he’d really have to get control of those damn things if you suddenly got mind reading powers—he planted a kiss on top of your dog’s head with an ear scratch.</p>
<p>You smirked. “Didn’t think you’d go for dogs.”</p>
<p>“Call it a soft spot.” </p>
<p>He leaned in again and pressed a kiss to your cheek.</p>
<p>“I’ll see you soon,” he murmured onto your skin.</p>
<p>“Mm, yeah, okay,” you squeaked. “So, um, what did you...what did you need to talk about?”</p>
<p>“That’s it.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“I just wanted to tell you that you should get her certified.”</p>
<p>“Oh.”</p>
<p>“And possibly—”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“No?”</p>
<p>“I’m not naming her Sparkles.”</p>
<p>Goddamn. </p>
<p>What else could you read from him?</p>
<p>“You’ll figure it out.” Stephen patted your shoulder with a smile. “I know you will.”</p>
<p>“Erm, thanks.”</p>
<p>As Stephen walked down the hallway, you shifted your weight and gulped; wondering why he didn’t just text you to tell you his thoughts about your dog. He loved shoving his opinions down your throat any way he could.</p>
<p>But luckily for him, Stephen still knew how to keep a secret.</p>
<p>Even from you.</p>
<p>Even from himself.</p>
<p>Even as he could smell your burnt lunch from the street while he ordered delivery to your apartment.</p>
<p>But <em> especially </em>as he got a text message from an unknown number.</p>
<p>
  <em> Call your lawyer, Dr. Strange. </em>
</p>
<p>He breathed a sigh of relief just as a second text came through.</p>
<p>
  <em> And thank you. </em>
</p>
<p>With his heart racing, Stephen looked to the sky and drew in a breath.</p>
<p>“Thanks, Dee. I knew you could do it.”</p>
<p>He dialed his lawyer, choosing to walk to Metro-General from your apartment. </p>
<p>It was simply a beautiful day after all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Snap, Crackle, Pop</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next morning, you sat on the couch with a mug of coffee in hand. Next to you, Isaac strummed his guitar, playing <em> The Long and Winding Road </em> by The Beatles.</p><p>“It always leads me here,” he sang. “Leads me to your door.”</p><p>When he was finished, you took a sip and smiled. Dog occupied herself on the floor with a spoon covered in peanut butter.</p><p>“This is different from your usual,” you hummed.</p><p>“I felt a little inspired.”</p><p>“And where did you get such divine inspiration?”</p><p>“You mean aside from the beautiful woman sitting in front of me?”</p><p>As a smirk tugged at the corner of your lip, your phone pinged from across the room. Holding your breath, you set down your mug and rushed to the kitchen island to retrieve it.</p><p>“Don’t tell me you have to go in,” Isaac said. “Don’t these people know what a vacation is supposed to be after all?”</p><p>But he set aside his guitar when you placed your hand over your gaping mouth.</p><p>“You know I’m talking about the hospital and not the kids who need surgery?” He furrowed his brow. “Everything okay, babe?”</p><p>“I, um, I have to go in.” An undeniable smile spread across your face.</p><p>“Okay, sure. I gotcha. You’ll let me know when you’re out?”</p><p>“Yes! Yes, I will!”</p><p>You rushed over and gave him a kiss.</p><p>“I just have to get changed and I should be home tonight. My normalish hours. You’ll be okay with Clea?”</p><p>“Dog has a name?”</p><p>“Yeah, what do you think?”</p><p>“I think anything that comes from your brain is pure magic. Great pick.”</p><p>You dropped to the floor and snatched the spoon from Clea. It was long licked clean anyway.</p><p>“You keep him out of trouble, sweet girl.” </p><p>You scratched her ears before tossing the spoon in the sink and dashing to the bedroom.</p><p>When you arrived at the hospital, it’s like the heavens opened up to you. </p><p>You were back. You were florking back. </p><p>You weren’t even sure what that email from the board meant. But apparently, the lawsuit and exposé were no longer an issue standing in the way of your employment.</p><p>Who were you to question divine intervention?</p><p>You rushed to the Peds floor, immediately requesting updates on all your post-ops. You needed to check on all your precious human beans. </p><p>As you scurried from room to room fluffing pillows, doling out high-fives, and reviewing charts, one of your long-term patients offered you a peony.</p><p>“You have to be careful,” she warned.</p><p>“Why thank you!” </p><p>You accepted the flower and tucked it behind your ear. But when you left the room, you stopped in your tracks. Examining the flower, you furrowed your brow that the fresh, pale pink petals.</p><p>You hadn’t been at the hospital in days.</p><p>Where did these peonies come from?</p><p>Securing your gremlin warding behind your ear, you texted Tony. But when he confirmed that no deliveries were sent on his behalf or Stark Industries, you bit your lip and tapped your fingers along your phone.</p><p>Ah, Kayla. </p><p>Surely. You’d add her reimbursement to her bonus.</p><p>A few floors below you, Stephen exited the OR and checked his phone.</p><p>
  <em> Nice one, Keebler. </em>
</p><p>He rolled his eyes and put his phone in his pocket. But even Stephen couldn’t deny the lightness in his chest knowing you were back exactly where you belonged.</p><p>He’d have to follow-up and see what you named your puppy. Next time you needed a consult, of course. He knew you’d pick something just perfect.</p><p> </p><p>After your return to Metro-General, time rushed by faster than anyone could seem to keep track. Before you knew it, Christine invited you and Isaac to drinks to celebrate Stephen’s birthday.</p><p>“Wait, he’s willing to get after-work drinks with all of us?” You cocked an eyebrow. “For <em> his </em> birthday?”</p><p>“I’m just as surprised as you are.”</p><p>“Sure, of course we’ll be there. To celebrate yet another year of Stephen Strange.”</p><p>“Great,” she laughed. “I’ll text you all the details when I get a full headcount.”</p><p>When you arrived at the bar, Stephen and Christine gave a slightly bewildered expression at the giant mobile in your hand.</p><p>“What is that?” Stephen furrowed his brow.</p><p>“Happy birthday!” </p><p>You held up the mobile as Isaac wrapped his arm around your waist.</p><p>“Oh my God,” Christine laughed, getting a better look at your latest creative endeavor.</p><p>“I made it with a patient. She was insistent on including Pluto.”</p><p>Stephen squinted to examine your rendition of the solar system. But instead of orbiting the sun, the planets all circled around a cutout of his hospital ID photo; flower crown photoshopped on his head, of course.</p><p>“I am not taking that home,” he complained.</p><p>“But Doctor Strange, I rearrange all of the cosmos just for you.”</p><p>You hung it on the back of a chair as you and Isaac took your seats.</p><p>“I realized that I don’t have any pictures of you. So we’re just going to have to change that this year.”</p><p>Christine rolled her eyes. “If you figure out a way to get him to pose for photos, let me know.”</p><p>“You don’t like getting pictures of you? I would have thought your apartment would be full of murals of you and your surgeries.”</p><p>“He thinks he’s too good for a selfie.” Christine elbowed him.</p><p>“Oh, we will change that this year, Christine. Don’t you worry. Call it a birthday gift to ourselves.”</p><p>“For <em> my </em>birthday?” Stephen asked.</p><p>“I mean, if we have to put up with another year of you, yeah, we’re going to get something for ourselves.”</p><p>Isaac gave your shoulder a squeeze.</p><p>“What are we having tonight? Drinks are on us.”</p><p>“Oh, I already set up a tab…” Christine started.</p><p>“Nonsense!” Isaac waved his hand through the air and grabbed his wallet. “Let’s trade out plastic with the bartender.”</p><p>As he and Christine went to the bar, Stephen tapped his fingers along the table and cocked his head to the side.</p><p>“When is your birthday?”</p><p>“If I told you it was today, would you take a selfie with me?”</p><p>“Why won’t you let me know?”</p><p>But you leaped out of your chair and rushed to tackle Billy in a hug. He patted you on the back with a grin.</p><p>“How did you rope him into this?”</p><p>“Oh, this wasn’t me.” You shook your head. “It was all Christine.”</p><p>“What is that?”</p><p>Billy pointed behind you. You looked over your shoulder to see a bartender hanging the mobile from an exposed beam. When he was finished, Isaac shook his hand with a laugh.</p><p>“Hey, thanks, man. We can take it down before we leave.”</p><p>“I’m here all night. Let me know when you want it down and I can take care of it. For liability purposes.”</p><p>“Alright. Sure thing.”</p><p>When all chairs were filled at your table (you knew most of the faces), you sipped your drink as Christine gathered everyone’s attention.</p><p>“Okay, I’m so happy you’re all here tonight. Because you’re also invited to our Friendsgiving this year.”</p><p>“It’s been a while since we’ve celebrated Thanksgiving.” Isaac smirked at you. “Sounds like fun.”</p><p>“You mean Colonizer’s Day?” you grumbled.</p><p>“Aw, c’mon. It’s a great excuse to eat a lot of food with great people.”</p><p>“We’re not doing it on actual Thanksgiving,” Christine said. “I know that you prefer to give as many of your people the day off.”</p><p>Billy’s eyes flickered to you. “Do you bake pie?”</p><p>“I <em> love </em> pie.” You gave him a nod. “Of course we’ll be there, Christine. We’ll finally get to see all of Doctor Strange’s murals of himself.”</p><p>“Oh, that’s right.” She tilted her head to the side. “You’ve never been to his place.”</p><p>“And you agreed to this?” You pointed to Stephen.</p><p>“She asked last year and I…” He shrugged. “It was going to happen eventually.”</p><p>“Then it’s settled. You’re all coming?” Christine asked.</p><p>The table nodded in delighted agreement. </p><p>When it was time to leave, Christine held Stephen up as he stumbled out of the bar. </p><p>“Okay, time to get you home.” She patted his chest. </p><p>“That way. No, that way.” His finger darted through the air.</p><p>Holding your hand, Isaac snickered. </p><p>“He gonna be okay?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Christine laughed. “I guess he felt okay to let go a bit tonight. It’s good. He deserves it. He works so hard.”</p><p>With shaky footing, Stephen took a step forward and jabbed a finger toward Isaac.</p><p>“Imma beat the shit out of you.”</p><p>“Stephen!” Christine dragged him down the sidewalk. </p><p>“He’s a fightin’ drunk.” Isaac smirked. “Good for you to know.” </p><p>You rested your head on Isaac’s shoulder. “See you Monday, Christine. And good luck with him.” </p><p>“Thanks, I’m going to need it,” she grunted, shoving Stephen into a taxi.</p><p>After she gave the driver his address, Stephen wrapped his hands around her face and looked at her with glassy eyes.</p><p>“I am so sorry that he...I would never. Never!”</p><p>“Wow, I have never seen you drink this much.”</p><p>“I love you. Lemme, lemme show you.” </p><p>As he leaned in, Christine pressed her palm to his chest and pushed him away.</p><p>“I love you too. But you’re completely plastered. You need to sleep this one off.”</p><p>“Mkay. Okay.” He leaned against the door and mumbled to himself. “After I kill your boyfriend.”</p><p>“What was that?”</p><p>“Mmm, Christine.”</p><p>“Yeah, I’m here. I gotcha.” She stroked his hair. </p><p>“I just love you so much. I just don’t how to...I’m not good at this.”</p><p>“It’s okay, Stephen. I know. I just, I need you to say it more.”</p><p>“Okay, I will.”</p><p>As Christine traced her thumb over his temple, she breathed a sigh of relief. Stephen really should celebrate his birthday more often.</p><p> </p><p>The night before Friendsgiving, Christine crawled in bed next to Stephen and pressed her lips to his cheek. </p><p>“I love you. I’m looking forward to tomorrow.”</p><p>“Me too. On both counts.”</p><p>With a smirk, she rolled her eyes and nestled next to him. Stephen stared at the ceiling, wondering why he didn’t agree to do this last year.</p><p>He was actually looking forward to it.</p><p>But before his mind could linger in the future for too long, he fell victim to sleep. </p><p>In his dream state, Stephen’s eyes flew open to his office.</p><p>Oh.</p><p>It was one of those dreams again.</p><p>But as he rifled through case files, he released a huff when (as expected) all cases were already taken. One to Mayo Clinic. One to Massachusetts General. One to Hopkins. None of the cases were left for him.</p><p>...Or was it because no one wanted him?</p><p>With his elbows on the desk, Stephen ran his hands through his hair. But he jerked his head up when you came racing through the door. Shameless grin across your face, you gently closed the door behind you and locked it.</p><p>Stephen furrowed his brow. </p><p>You didn’t have any case files or scans in hand.</p><p>Maybe this would be...different?</p><p>“I have fifteen minutes.” You gave him a sinister smile. Placing your palms to his desk, you leaned forward and pouted your lip. “Make time in your busy, busy schedule for me, Doctor Strange?”</p><p>“What? I always make time for you.”</p><p>“Stephen. I’m trying a...are you serious?”</p><p>You turned out your hands, bringing his attention to the familiar emerald ring on your left-hand ring finger.</p><p>“I’ll just keep it blunt if you don’t have time for foreplay.” You shrugged. “Do you want a blow job or not?”</p><p>“Ye-yes. Sure.”</p><p>“God, it’s a good thing you’re pretty. For your own sake.”</p><p>You dashed to the other side of his desk, throwing yourself on top of him with your knees on either side of his hips.</p><p>Tangling your fingers in his hair, you pulled him into a kiss; fervently grinding your hips against him to awaken his desire. He sure was out of it today.</p><p>You tugged on his strands to lean his head back. With his neck exposed to you, you decorated his skin with an unknown constellation of kisses, licks, and nips. He groaned in appreciation as you palmed his hardness.</p><p>“Now you’re back to your senses,” you hummed.</p><p>“Thank God.”</p><p>He wrapped his hand along the side of your face to bring your lips back to his. </p><p>“I will always have time for you,” he breathed.</p><p>“Just have an infinite supply of it don’t you?” </p><p>You kissed him back, tugging on the front of his scrubs.</p><p>“When I run out, I will make more.”</p><p>Biting your lip, you leaned back and traced the back of your hand along his cheekbone. With a grin, you reached into his pants and began to stroke him.</p><p>“How much can you stretch out fifteen minutes, Doctor Strange?”</p><p>He leaned his head back with a groan as you crawled off him and positioned your knees on the floor. Looking at him through your lashes, you smirked as the tip of your tongue met the tip of his member. He was particularly beautiful like this.</p><p>Entrancing him with devoted circles and swirls, you ran your hand over his shaft before barely permitting him to enter your mouth. He sucked in a breath when you threw your head back, denying him the warmth he craved.</p><p>“You said fifteen minutes?” he grunted.</p><p>“That’s an awfully long time, don’t you think?”</p><p>But you stole his reply by taking him as deep as you could. Closing his eyes, he trailed his fingers through your hair and guided you to him with cautious, but increasing jerks of his hips.</p><p>God, every inch of you was immaculate.</p><p>As the room filled with pleased grumbles, grunts, and groans from his throat, Stephen’s eyes started to flicker open. He tightened his grip around your hair, your name tenderly on the tip of his tongue. But when he looked down, his eyes bolted open in an instant to see…</p><p>Christine.</p><p>In his bed. In the waking world. With her hand wrapped around the base of his cock.</p><p>“Good morning.” She smirked after removing him from her mouth.</p><p>Brain still recalibrating, Stephen jerked backward; smacking his head with a painful crack to the headboard. But that was nothing compared to the snap, crackle, pop that followed, flourished by his voice ripping through the air.</p><p>“MOTHERFUCKER!”</p><p>Mouth hanging open, Christine pulled her hand back from him with pure horror written across her face.</p><p>“Oh my God. I am so sorry. I thought that you, you seemed like you were enjoying yourself. I just...Oh my God.”</p><p>Her eyes drifted downward. </p><p>Clenching his fists and jaw and every muscle possible, Stephen leaned to the side and shook his head.</p><p>“Don’t...look...at it.”</p><p>“Stephen, we, we have to get you to the hospital.”</p><p>Holding his breath, Stephen yanked the covers over him and shook his head. </p><p>“I am NOT GOING TO THE HOSPITAL LIKE THIS! I’ll be fine.”</p><p>“I think...I think you’re going to need surgery. Oh my God. I am so sorry.”</p><p>Biting his lip, Stephen leaned his head back and whined.</p><p>“I can’t...go to...the hospital.”</p><p>“Stephen…”</p><p>“Christine…”</p><p>“You could have permanent damage from this. We’re going to the hospital.”</p><p>Grinding his teeth, Stephen hung his head.</p><p>This.</p><p>This is exactly why he didn’t agree to this last year. Why didn’t he just listen to his past self? He would have known better. </p><p>God, he was fucked. And not in the way Christine was hoping for that morning.</p><p>Happy Friendsgiving, Stephen.</p><p>Happy Friendsgiving.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Genie in a Bottle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Yup.” The urologist nodded. “That’s a penile fracture, Strange. You’re going to need—”</p><p>Stephen threw the covers of the ER bed over him with a scowl.</p><p>“I know. I went to medical school. And not the shithole excu—”</p><p>“Stephen.” Christine crossed her arms and shifted her weight. </p><p>“We’ll get you in as soon as we can,” the urologist grumbled, scribbling notes on Stephen’s chart.</p><p>“I know how the ER works.”</p><p>Raising his eyebrows at Christine, the urologist gave her a nod and walked away. When he was out of sight, she glared at Stephen.</p><p>“You’re not helping yourself.”</p><p>“What trash are they pumping into me?” He leaned over to grab his IV bag.</p><p>“They tried telling you.”</p><p>“I don’t need to listen to a nurse inaccurately repor—”</p><p>“Stephen!” She yanked the bag from his hand and put it back on the hanger. “I am already embarrassed enough to be here. And you being a complete asshole to everyone who looks at your chart is only making things worse.”</p><p>He wrinkled his nose. “You’re embarrassed? I’m the one who—”</p><p>“I broke your penis trying to wake you up with a blowjob,” she hissed. “It’s humiliating.”</p><p>“I didn’t think...I didn’t think about that.”</p><p>“Of course you didn’t!”</p><p>“I-I’m sorry.”</p><p>Christine closed her eyes and drew in a breath. Running her fingers through her hair, she shook her head and sighed.</p><p>“I know. I’m sorry too. I didn’t think it through.”</p><p>“It was a...nice gesture.”</p><p>“Thanks,” she snorted.</p><p>Clenching his jaw, Stephen gripped the side of the bed and tentatively glanced at her.</p><p>“Did you call...everyone?”</p><p>“I sent a group text. No one knows you’re in the hospital. Well, except for...”</p><p>“Christine…”</p><p>“She’s so tiny! You wouldn’t think she had it in her. But she called me and the moment I opened my mouth, she knew something was wrong and…”</p><p>“No.” He closed his eyes with a groan.</p><p>“I swear, the CIA will be recruiting her any day now. And we won’t have to worry about—”</p><p>Your voice rang through the ER.</p><p>“CHRISTINE!” </p><p>“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.</p><p>You rushed over and tackled her in a hug. </p><p>“Are you okay? Is he okay? Is everyone okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah.” She pried herself from your arms. “He just, uh, fell in the shower.”</p><p>You whipped your head around to stare at Stephen.</p><p>“You? You fell in the shower? Did they give you a head CT? Something off with your balance? Or...Oh, God. Not your heart. Did they—”</p><p>Reading Stephen’s face, Christine grabbed you and led you away from him.</p><p>“He’s going to be fine. We’re not his doctors right now. Just...friends and family”</p><p>“Right.” You sucked in a breath. But you narrowed your eyes as the urologist walked over to Stephen. “Christine…”</p><p>She looked over her shoulder and gulped.</p><p>“Why is Tom talking to him if he fell in the shower?” You tilted your head to the side.</p><p>“Um, kidney stones. He fell in the shower because of the pain from the kidney stones.”</p><p>“He just has kidney stones?”</p><p>“Yes. I, uh, I should have started with that.” </p><p>You gasped a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God.”</p><p>“It was sweet of you to come. But it’s fine, he’s fine, he’ll be fine. You can go home. I’ll text you with an update.”</p><p>“No, no, no. You’re not shaking me off that easily. What do you need?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You must be worried sick. What kind of tea do you like? I’m getting you something herbal.”</p><p>“I’m fine. Really.”</p><p>“What do you want? Or I am bringing you all of them.”</p><p>“Fine. Chamomile.”</p><p>“Honey? What am I saying?” You shook your head. “Of course, honey. It’s a honey kind of day.”</p><p>Before she could say anything, you scurried off to the main lobby. Christine pressed her palm to her forehead and released a sigh. Maybe your interrogation skills weren’t so terrible after all.</p><p>While Stephen was in surgery, you sat next to her in the waiting area. You stared at the ceiling and she picked at the sleeve of her cup.</p><p>“He must have been in so much pain if he needed surgery,” you said. “Farts, you must have been terrified.”</p><p>“What? Oh, um, yeah.”</p><p>“Christine…”</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“Are you okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, I’m fine.”</p><p>“I mean...you don’t have to talk about it. But if you do, I’m here. And it looks like we aren’t going anywhere anytime soon.”</p><p>Christine pursed her lips and nodded. You studied the ceiling until the sleeve around her cup was in shreds. She finally shifted in her chair and looked at you.</p><p>“When did Isaac say that he loves you?”</p><p>You bit your lip.</p><p>“You know…” She shook her head. “That’s too personal of a question. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“No, it’s fine. I just, I don’t know if my relationship will have that many insights.”</p><p>“You two have been together forever.”</p><p>“Yeah, and he didn’t tell me he loved me for years.”</p><p>“Years?”</p><p>“Yes, Christine. I told him for years that I loved him. And it was...it was just me.”</p><p>Christine started to narrow her eyes but you shook your head. </p><p>“He’s fine about it now. Great, in fact. But if you’re looking for help in the ‘I love you’ department, I might not be the best real life example. I thought you already passed this stage?”</p><p>“Yeah, I just...it’s nothing.”</p><p>“Are you sure?”</p><p>“Yeah, I’m sure.”</p><p>Rubbing your knees, you sprang to your feet and beamed at her.</p><p>“Well, I’m going to grab something to eat. Can I get you anything?”</p><p>“Do I have a choice?”</p><p>“Are you hungry?”</p><p>She shook her head.</p><p>“Okay, I’ll be back. Text me if there are any updates.”</p><p>As you bounced out of the waiting area, Christine furrowed her brow and took a sip of her tea. And she couldn’t help but hear the words that Stephen foretold the night he said he loves her.</p><p>
  <em> She’s miserable. And she doesn’t even know it. </em>
</p><p>Maybe he wasn’t as emotionally inept as she assumed.</p><p> </p><p>Stephen got out of surgery without any complications. He would spend two nights in the hospital and a month of recovery until he was fully healed—including at least follow-up exam, to his great displeasure. </p><p>When he was ready for visitation, Christine sat in a chair on the side of his bed. </p><p>“How do you feel?”</p><p>“Hello, girlfriend mine,” he hummed, tapping the tip of her nose.</p><p>“Oh no.” </p><p>The nurse stepped one foot into the room and started backing out.</p><p>“How much did you give him?” Christine leaned over the back of her chair.</p><p>“He said,” Stephen hiccupped, “that I am an asshole.”</p><p>The nurse grimaced. “It’s true that doctors are the worst patients. But he is—”</p><p>“I get it.” Christine held up her hand. “I can monitor him.”</p><p>“Oh, thank God.” The nurse scurried out of the room.</p><p>Christine tilted her head to the side. “What did you do to him?”</p><p>“He asked me to rate my pain on the pain scale and I told him I’d slice into his dick and he could tell me the answer.”</p><p>“Stephen,” Christine groaned. “How are you feeling now?”</p><p>“I’m considering a vow of celibacy that I also plan on breaking.” </p><p>“Well, I’m just glad you’re okay. I won’t try anything like that again.”</p><p>“Sad.”</p><p>“You really want to go through this a second time?”</p><p>He furrowed his brow. “Did you tell her…”</p><p>“No.” Christine rolled her eyes. “She thinks you have kidney stones. Had kidney stones. I don’t know how long it’ll hold up. But at least it will save us the embarrassment for now.”</p><p>“She left.”</p><p>“To get some food, yeah. But she wanted to know when you’re up for visitors.” She raised an eyebrow. “Are you? Up for visitors?”</p><p>“As long as they fixed my kidney stones.”</p><p>“Just don’t blow our cover.” She leaned back in her chair with a chuckle, pulling out her phone to text you. “Because I am not explaining this to another person.”</p><p>In approximately forty-seven seconds, you rushed into Stephen’s room panting and shaking your head.</p><p>“I got <em> so much </em> yogurt!”</p><p>Catching your breath, you leaned over the back of Christine’s chair. When you finally had a semblance of steady rhythm to your lungs, you furrowed your brow at Stephen.</p><p>“You look terrible.”</p><p>“You’re lucky to even be looking at me, Sparkles.”</p><p>“Not you too.”</p><p>You groaned and dragged your hand down your face. </p><p>“Sparkles?” Christine asked.</p><p>“Tony Stark has a soft spot for…” He waved his finger through the air, eventually pointing to your face. “You.”</p><p>“How much did you piss off the nurse?” you asked. </p><p>“I am a delight. People just don’t appreciate me enough.”</p><p>“Until we officially congregate in the Church of Stephen Strange, I’m afraid that will never happen.” </p><p>Leaning upright, you crossed your arms and cocked an eyebrow. </p><p>“You’re going to do a better job hydrating yourself. And I stocked my office fridge with yogurt. I’ll do the same to yours when Billy is back. I got the low sugar kind because I’m assuming you got calcium oxalate stones.”</p><p>“Orrrr...something else.” </p><p>“Alright.” You gulped. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I’ll leave some pies later. But you’ll let me know if you need anything?”</p><p>You rested your hand on Christine’s shoulder.</p><p>“What?” She whipped around. “Oh yeah, of course. Thanks.”</p><p>“Take care of yourself.”</p><p>You gave her shoulder a squeeze and dashed out the door.</p><p> </p><p>News of Stephen’s surgery flew through the hospital’s gossip highway faster than the time an HR employee got caught arguing with a prostitute about her rates...on hospital property. </p><p>Yet, whenever you entered the room to eager whispers and giggles, all conversation came to an immediate halt.</p><p>“Something on my face?” You furrowed your brow.</p><p>“No, just a dumb rumor. We’ll spare you the sordid details.”</p><p>Your team wasn’t going to talk about Doctor Strange’s penile fracture with you. It would be like talking sex positions with Bambi.</p><p>“Oh, carry on.”</p><p>You shrugged and walked down the hallway, opting to text Stephen. It was about time to check on his water intake anyway.</p><p> </p><p>By December, Billy gleefully shoved a vanilla butter cupcake in his mouth. As he decorated his keyboard with red, green, and silver sprinkles, you smirked and sat on the edge of his desk.</p><p>“These will be the death of me,” he mumbled through a mouthful. </p><p>“We’ll just resuscitate you.”</p><p>“And I will agree to lifetimes of death by cupcake.”</p><p>“Do you miss the gluten-free life?”</p><p>Buttercream smeared on his nose, he looked at you with a deadpan expression.</p><p>“I’ll take that as a no,” you chuckled and pointed to Stephen’s door. “Does he have a moment?”</p><p>“Since when do you ask?”</p><p>Furrowing your brow, you shook your head and hopped off his desk. You strode into Stephen’s office and beamed at him.</p><p>“Piece of shit,” he grumbled, struggling to extract ink from a lifeless pen.</p><p>You removed your pen from your front pocket and handed it to him. Without looking up, he snatched it from your hand and finished his signature before shoving the file aside.</p><p>But when he looked at your face, his breath caught in his throat.</p><p>“Poinsettias.”</p><p>You shrugged. “Don’t worry. The elf ears are coming back next week.”</p><p>“I already downed thirty-two ounces of water this morning. Why do you bother checking? I could make up any number just to satisfy you.”</p><p>“Are you? Making up a number?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“There you have it. But I’m not here to check on your status of hydration. I wanted to see if you and Christine would be open to coming with me and Isaac to Tony’s holiday party.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>You smiled and spun around. </p><p>Mouth hanging open, Stephen looked at your backside as you reached for the door handle. But you smirked as he hung his head and grumbled.</p><p>“What was that about?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You just...just…” He jutted his hand toward you.</p><p>“Asked you if you wanted to come to a party and you said no. So...I’m leaving.”</p><p>“You’re not going to, you know—”</p><p>“Tell you that these parties are hilarious and more over the top than a Baz Luhrmann movie? No.” </p><p>You put your index finger to your chin and tilted your head to the side. </p><p>“Or that by the third hour of the evening, Tony is usually drunk enough to serenade some poor soul and ask her to be his fourth wife? Or that he gave me the green light to invite whoever I wanted and now I’m shamelessly exploiting it?”</p><p>You bit your lip and put your hands on your hips.</p><p>“Or that you’d be doing me a massive personal favor because I usually hate these things? No, why would I tell you this if you already told me you don’t want to go?”</p><p>"I'll think about it."</p><p>"Only if you want to."</p><p>You wiggled your shoulders and bounced out of his office.</p><p> </p><p>The night of Tony’s party, you looked in your bathroom mirror and arranged a crown of holly berries, red roses, and frosted greenery upon your head. You applied bright red lipstick to complete the look and strutted into the living room.</p><p>“Look at you.” Isaac smirked, hands in his pockets. “You really do live up to the name.”</p><p>You traced your hands over the sequins of your ruby dress. </p><p>“I felt like tormenting Tony.” </p><p>“I think you’re really going to have fun tonight.”</p><p>“Is that so?”</p><p>You cocked an eyebrow and straightened his bow tie. He gave you a smirk.</p><p>“Yeah, you might not just hide in a corner, downing eggnog, and counting down the minutes until we leave. I still don’t know how you drink that stuff.”</p><p>“Are you still performing?”</p><p>“Yeah, but—”</p><p>“It’s going to be too loud for me to even have a conversation with anyone. At least I don’t need to hear anything the eggnog says. Well...for the first few glasses.”</p><p>He rested his hands on your shoulders and looked into your eyes. </p><p>“I want you to enjoy yourself tonight.”</p><p>“I will Isaac. I promise.”</p><p>“Good. You deserve it.”</p><p>He pecked you on the cheek and reached for the door.</p><p>“Ready to—”</p><p>But you already scurried to the kitchen, dipping a homemade dog biscuit in the designated peanut butter jar.</p><p>“Ah,” Isaac mused. “The ‘mom is leaving’ treat.”</p><p>You set the biscuit in Clea’s crate and scratched her head.</p><p>“Sleep well, sweet girl.” You popped to your feet and beamed at Isaac. “Okay, now we can leave.”</p><p>When you arrived at the club, you knew exactly what you were walking into. </p><p>Massive stage. Glistening decor. And enough drinks to give anyone alcohol poisoning if they desired to end their evening in the ER. You always arrived early so Isaac could set up.</p><p>But, with your boyfriend’s fingers threaded between yours, you sucked in a breath to walk into a room already filled with people. </p><p>Instead of a stage with Isaac’s usual set up as the center of attention, you tilted your head as the melodies of two grand pianos filled the air.</p><p>Playing...wait. Was that <em> Thunderstruck </em> by AC/DC?</p><p>“Sparkles!” </p><p>Tony cradled your face in his hands and decorated your cheeks with a kiss on each. </p><p>“Ravishing as always. Should have added mistletoe though.” He tapped your flower crown. “Because I could, y’know.”</p><p>“What’s this?” you asked, pointing to the pianists.</p><p>Isaac gave your hand a squeeze. “Thought we’d change things up a bit for you.”</p><p>“A dueling piano bar.” Tony grinned. “And yes, we are going to take over as soon as you get situated.” </p><p>“You play piano?”</p><p>“I’m more than just a pretty face, Doc.”</p><p>A server handed Tony two glasses of eggnog. He offered one to you with a smirk.</p><p>“M’lady.”</p><p>Narrowing your eyes, you took a sip and gasped the moment the liquid hit your tongue.</p><p>“Tony, this is more bourbon than it is egg or nog.”</p><p>“Oops.” He swapped glasses with a grimace. “That one’s mine.”</p><p>Isaac wrinkled his nose at your drink of choice. </p><p>“God, you two are disgusting.”</p><p>“Hey, you’re not kissing me tonight. Take your complaints up with the Ruby Slippers incarnate.” Tony looked you up and down. “It’s a good color on you.”</p><p>“I think so too.” Isaac wrapped his arm around your shoulders and smirked.</p><p>Tony withdrew a pen and notepad from his inside jacket pocket. </p><p>“Any requests?” </p><p>“For you or the actual decent musicians?”</p><p>“I can’t wait to prove you wrong.” </p><p>He exchanged the pen and paper for your drink.</p><p>As you scribbled away, Isaac gave you a nod. </p><p>“I’m going to the bar.”</p><p>“And don’t you come back,” Tony snickered.</p><p>Isaac rolled his eyes and untangled himself from you. </p><p>You compiled a starting set list, hair on the back of your neck pricking on end.</p><p>“You know that’s just rhythmic nonsense,” a low voice murmured behind you. </p><p>“It’s cheating if you’re quoting the artist’s own words, Doctor Strange.” You spun around with a smile. “What’s your actual opinion of <em> Bohemian Rhapsody </em>?”</p><p>“You could have worse taste in music.”</p><p>“And don’t you forget it.”</p><p>You gave Tony the list and retrieved your eggnog.</p><p>“Where’s Christine?”</p><p>“She got stuck pulling a double.”</p><p>“No,” you pouted. “We’ll send her dinner. Can we send her dinner?”</p><p>You turned to Tony. </p><p>“Call me a genie in a bottle.” He smirked. “Your wish is my command.”</p><p>“Good. She deserves it. The whole team does.”</p><p>“Consider it done.”</p><p>“Thank you.” You pecked him on the cheek. </p><p>Clearing his throat, Tony glanced down and raised the pen and paper. </p><p>“I’ll take these up for you now.”</p><p>As Tony left for the stage, Stephen put his hands in his pockets and smirked at you.</p><p>“Thanks for convincing me to come to this.”</p><p>“I didn’t convince you to do anything.”</p><p>“Sure,” he chuckled. “You look—”</p><p>“Hey, man. Glad you could make it.” </p><p>Isaac smacked Stephen’s back twice and strode next to you. You furrowed your brow at his empty hands.</p><p>“You didn’t get anything to drink?”</p><p>“Well, I figure if I’m going to have to compensate for Tony’s lack of musical talent, I should stay sober.”</p><p>“I’m sure he’ll drink enough for both of you.”</p><p>“Exactly.” He nodded to Stephen. “Where’s your girl?”</p><p>“She’s stuck at the hospital saving lives,” you answered. </p><p>“Oh, we should send over—”</p><p>“Already covered it.” You placed your hand over his chest. </p><p>“No one starves with you around.”</p><p>“No, they do not.” Stephen glanced down and cleared his throat. </p><p>“Oh, how’s your kidney situation?” Isaac asked. “She told me you got surgery and everything. Must have sucked.”</p><p>“It…Yes...It did. I’m fine. Fully recovered.”</p><p>“He’s on a regular diet of high-calcium foods now,” you chimed in. “So hopefully it won’t happen again.”</p><p>No, he was regularly sending your avalanche of yogurt and other dairy products to the dermatology floor. But you didn’t need to know that.</p><p>“This was your prognosis?” Isaac raised his eyebrows.</p><p>“Actually, a prognosis is—”</p><p>“Yes,” you cut off Stephen. </p><p>But before you could continue, Tony tapped Isaac on the shoulder.</p><p>“Ready to get this party started?”</p><p>“Always.” He smirked. “I’m going to destroy you.”</p><p>“What? Grow up. This isn’t Rock Band. And if it was, I would wipe the floor with you.”</p><p>Isaac snorted and followed after Tony. You gave Stephen a nod.</p><p>“Find a table with me?”</p><p>“Gladly.”</p><p>As you waded through the crowd, you couldn’t deny the slight tug at the corner of your lips. Tonight would be nothing short of magical. </p><p>You were sure of it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Love of My Life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At the piano, Tony cracked his knuckles and snickered. He wiggled his fingers over the keys and nodded to Isaac.</p><p>“If she falls in love with me, you only have yourself to blame.”</p><p>“Pretty sure we’d be sending her off with the neurologist because something would be terribly wrong with her brain.”</p><p>With a smirk, Tony leaned over to speak into his microphone. </p><p>“We have quite the demanding setlist before us. But first, a little something dedicated to our walking ray of sunshine. I plan to become your second husband someday.”</p><p>“Over my dead body,” Isaac laughed.</p><p>“Who said you’d be the first? I think there’s a line.”</p><p>“Man, shut up and play.”</p><p>As you peered through the cracks in your fingers, Tony and Isaac started playing <em> Your Song </em> by Elton John. They passed lines back and forth and you pressed your fingertips to your chin with a smile.</p><p>“He’s early.” Stephen checked his watch. “We’re only thirty-seven minutes into the evening. I believe you are officially ‘some poor soul’.”</p><p>“Oh my God.” </p><p>You laughed and covered your face.</p><p>“But the sun's been quite kind while I wrote this song,” Tony sang.</p><p>“It's for people like you that keep it turned on.” Isaac smiled at you.</p><p>The end of their serenade received quite the applause from the audience, including you. Tony leaned in to impart his final words of wisdom to the crowd.</p><p>“Alright, party people. Eat, drink, and be merry.” </p><p>“Because we’ll all be in a world of pain tomorrow,” Isaac added.</p><p>“We may not be happy. But we can be drunk.”</p><p>They started playing <em> Come Sail Away </em> by Styx as people trickled onto the dance floor.</p><p>“Do you dance?” You raised your eyebrows at Stephen.</p><p>“By all technical aspects, I can.”</p><p>“Would you like to engage in such technical activities now?”</p><p>“Umm…”</p><p>But you spun around as a finger tapped you on the shoulder.</p><p>“Join us?” Billy asked with his arm wrapped around his partner.</p><p>“FLORKING MOTHER OF!” You threw your arms around the startled man. “You must be Liam.”</p><p>“She’s just as you described,” he squeaked.</p><p>“She recently got a dog too.” Billy grinned. </p><p>“Right!” You finally let Liam breathe again. “You’re a vet, yes?”</p><p>“Yeah, what kind of dog do you have?”</p><p>“She’s a Samoyed. Still under a year.”</p><p>“She must be loving this weather. What’s her name?”</p><p>“Clea,” Stephen answered. </p><p>“And that is Doctor Strange.” Billy gave him a nod.</p><p>“Stephen,” he corrected, shaking Liam’s hand. “Good to finally meet you.”</p><p>“Likewise. I have heard quite a few stories about you.”</p><p>“Oh my God!” you squeaked. “I never have people to dance with at these things. Let’s go!”</p><p>Tapping his fingers along the table, Stephen watched you as you dashed off. But before you made it to the dance floor, you skidded to a halt. </p><p>“Oh, oops!”</p><p>You rushed back to the table and set your crown in front of your seat. </p><p>“Join us whenever you’d like.”</p><p>You winked at Stephen and disappeared in a blur. </p><p>Tony and Isaac played a number of your favorites. But they ultimately handed off the task of entertainment to the hired musical talent for the evening. </p><p>With your arms around Isaac’s neck, you swayed with him to the tune of <em> Every Breath You Take </em> by The Police.</p><p>“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked.</p><p>“Very much so. This is the best party we’ve been to.”</p><p>“I’m sorry. For all the times I made you come to these things and sit by yourself. That wasn’t, wasn’t fair.”</p><p>“You didn’t make me do anything.”</p><p>“You know what I mean.” He wrapped his arms around your waist and drew you close. “I love you.”</p><p>“I love you too.”</p><p>Stephen watched you as you kissed your boyfriend. But he broke his trance when a body filled your seat. </p><p>“I tried to help you out.” Tony popped a chocolate covered pretzel in his mouth. “Why didn’t you dance with her?”</p><p>“I don’t need your help. My girlfriend isn’t here. It would be—”</p><p>“Geez, I didn’t say you had to start having sex with her in the middle of the dance floor.” Tony dragged his hand down his face. “So you’re still with Red?”</p><p>“Her name is Christine.”</p><p>“And you love her?”</p><p>“Of course I—” Stephen tore his gaze away from you and glared at Tony. “I’m not explaining myself to you.”</p><p>“Just making conversation.”</p><p>Tony tapped his knuckles on the table and rose to his feet. He strutted onto the dance floor and poked your side. </p><p>“This guy bothering you, Sparkles?”</p><p>Isaac shook his head. “Dude, not now.”</p><p>“If not now, when?”</p><p>“I think you should take the night off from hitting on my girlfriend.”</p><p>“Isaac, he’s fine. If he wasn’t flirting with me, it would be terrible news. Because it would mean I didn’t have a pulse.”</p><p>“That would be quite unflattering,” Tony snickered. “For me. Not my kink.”</p><p>“Not tonight.” Isaac glared at him. </p><p>“Isaac.” You placed your palm to his chest. “I’m fine.”</p><p>“No, he’s not pulling his usual crap tonight. I put up with his bullshit all the—”</p><p>“My bullshit?” Tony scoffed. “You know, you’ve got some fucking nerve.”</p><p>“Boys, you’re both drunk and being ridiculous.”</p><p>Isaac glared at Tony. </p><p>“We’re going home,” he demanded.</p><p>“What? Isaac, he’s just being himself. You don’t need to get threatened. There’s nothing between us.”</p><p>“I know that. But do you think I enjoy listening to this guy putting the moves on you every fucking time you’re in the room?”</p><p>Tony snorted, “I wouldn’t have to if you could do it right.”</p><p>“We’re leaving.”</p><p>“Didn’t realize you had time traveling powers, Bolton. Taking us back to the 1950s? Maybe you should let the woman speak for herself.”</p><p>“Tony, I’m fine.”</p><p>“This guy has no idea how to treat you.”</p><p>“Oh, like you do?” Isaac scoffed.</p><p>“God no! But at least I know that I’m undeserving of her. Instead of dicking around with the mind games and bullshit you put her through. Year after year. And every time I think she’s finally going to see it, she still gets back together with you.”</p><p>“Tony! I’m not a mindless idiot!”</p><p>He looked at his watch and shrugged. </p><p>“Will you look at that? You made it a year longer than you normally do before you dump her. Just like triggering that abandonment wound to make sure she always feels like she has to prove herself to you?”</p><p>“Hey!” Isaac jabbed a finger in his direction. “Our relationship is none of your goddamn business.”</p><p>“Except it is! Every time you leave her she calls me drunk out of her fucking mind!”</p><p>“What?” You narrowed your eyes at him.</p><p>“And you never remember a thing the next day.”</p><p>Isaac grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket. </p><p>“What did you do to her when she was drunk?”</p><p>“Nothing. But she did tell me what you did.”</p><p>Tony shoved Isaac off him. He ran his hands over his shirt. But when he took a step forward, you glared at him. </p><p>“I am cashing in my big, fat favor. Walk away from this.”</p><p>“I can’t stay quiet anymore. Not when the guy assau—”</p><p>A steady pair of hands grabbed Tony’s arms and yanked him away from you and Isaac.</p><p>“Not now,” Stephen said. “Not here.”</p><p>But Tony still prepared himself to attack.</p><p>“I am going to kill you!”</p><p>“Oh yeah?” Isaac mocked. “Going to get your costume and play superhero? Save the damnsel in distress so you can justify your miserable existence?”</p><p>“I don’t need a suit to beat the crap out of someone like you!” Tony fought against Stephen’s grip. “I am Iron Man, you piece of shit!”</p><p>When Stephen successfully managed to wrangle Tony and shove him a few feet away from you, Isaac grabbed your wrist. </p><p>“C’mon. We’re getting out of here.”</p><p>“Go home.” You yanked yourself from his grasp.</p><p>“You really want to stay here after everything he just—”</p><p>“Isaac, I can barely look at you right now. Go. Home.”</p><p>He stared at you for a moment. But when the muscles in your face refused to relax, he buttoned his coat and shook his head.</p><p>“You’ll let me know when you’re heading home?”</p><p>“Maybe.”</p><p>“I...I am so sorry.”</p><p>“I am too. I just need...some time.”</p><p>Biting his lip, Isaac shook his head and strutted through the crowd; refusing to add another word to the heavy silence.</p><p>With your heart pounding within your chest, you stomped away to find somewhere, anywhere else to be. As long as you weren’t the center of attention. You’d never understand why the men in your life loved the limelight.</p><p>In the restroom, you locked the door and ran frigid water over your hands. </p><p>Right atrium to right ventricle. Right ventricle to lung. Lungs to—</p><p>You flinched at a knock on the door.</p><p>“Occupied.”</p><p>“Sparkles, can you just...open the door.”</p><p>As Tony raised his fist to knock again, his breath caught in his throat when you threw the door open. </p><p>“I am so sorry,” he pleaded.</p><p>“Why did you do that?”</p><p>“I, I’m going to have to ask my therapist about that one.”</p><p>“You really hate him.”</p><p>“What do you see in that guy?”</p><p>“He’s my partner, Tony. My best friend. We’ve been through everything together. Even if some of it is shit we put each other through.”</p><p>“Are you...are you actually happy with him?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“I can’t, I can’t do this anymore.”</p><p>“You were never friends with Isaac.”</p><p>“The guy’s band was named Deception. Maybe he just brings out the worst in people.”</p><p>“Don’t say that.”</p><p>Tony closed his eyes and looked down. After clearing his throat, he put his hands on his hips and shifted his weight.</p><p>“If you ever decide to leave him, call me. I will find somewhere for you to go.”</p><p>“Tony.”</p><p>“I don’t even have to be there. This isn’t a trick. I just, I don’t want you to stay with him because you have no where else to go.”</p><p>“I’m not.”</p><p>He tapped his knuckles on the doorway and turned around. But before he took a single step away from you, he spun and raised his eyebrows.</p><p>“You know that I love you, right?”</p><p>“Of course. I love you too.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“My life can be separated into two phases: before and after Isaac. I have a few friends from before I met him that I get Christmas cards from. But after...I don’t really have anyone. Except for, well, you.”</p><p>You took a step toward him and tilted your head to the side. </p><p>“You’re one of my closest and oldest friends and I think the world of you. I just wish you did the same for yourself.”</p><p>“I should have worn elf ears, shouldn’t I?”</p><p>“Yes, that was exactly what went wrong tonight.”</p><p>He smirked and gave you a nod.</p><p>“Don’t sulk in here for the rest of the night. I didn’t get a disco ball and you’re the best substitute I could find.”</p><p>“Alright, I’ll be there in a moment.”</p><p>“Good talk, Sparkles. Good talk.”</p><p>After Tony left, you closed the door and looked in the mirror; wondering what unhappiness he claimed was painted across your face. You looked like, well, you. If Isaac brought out the worst in you, what was your worst?</p><p>But instead of lingering, you shook your head and kept to your word. You adjusted your makeup and exited the lonely restroom.</p><p>Back at your table, you took your seat and flicked one of the leaves on your flower crown with the tip of your index finger. Stephen shifted in his chair as you avoided eye contact with him.</p><p>“Thank you,” you whispered.</p><p>“Are you okay?”</p><p>“No, but I will be.”</p><p>You tilted your head upward as the pianists started playing <em> Dancing in the Moonlight </em> by King Harvest.</p><p>“I love this song.”</p><p>“I know.” He smirked.</p><p>“Did you request this?”</p><p>“I had to slip them two hundred bucks. But, yeah.”</p><p>Resting your elbow on the table, you cradled your face in your hand and smiled at him.</p><p>“You’re very kind. I’ll reimburse you.”</p><p>“Why don’t you dance?”</p><p>“No, I-I’m fine.”</p><p>Stephen rose to his feet and extended his hand to you. With a smirk, he mouthed along to the lyrics.</p><p>“You can't dance and stay uptight. It's a supernatural delight.”</p><p>You looked at him through your lashes and raised your eyebrows.</p><p>“C’mon,” he hummed. “Dance with me.”</p><p>“Only because I know how stubborn you are, Doctor Strange.”</p><p>Smile tugging at the corners of your lips, you took his hand and he guided you to the dance floor. With one hand connected with his, you draped your palm over his shoulder as he wrapped his around your waist.</p><p>“You know you’re supposed to let me lead?” he chuckled.</p><p>“Well, I didn’t know if you knew what you were doing.”</p><p>Smirking, Stephen tightened his grip around your waist to draw you close. You rested your head against him and laughed.</p><p>“Do I really look like a walking disco ball?”</p><p>“Nothing a little retina surgery can’t fix.”</p><p>You trailed your hand up his neck and to the side of his face.</p><p>“Thank you for being my friend.”</p><p>Stephen furrowed his brow. “I, I should be saying that to you. I’m the asshole.”</p><p>“I mean it.” You leaned closer, eyes flickering to the floor and back to his face. “I don’t have many people. But you, you’re…I appreciate you.”</p><p>“And I you.”</p><p>The song changed to an instrumental-only cover of <em> I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing </em> by Aerosmith.</p><p>With one hand inching into his hair, you placed your palm to his chest. Stephen wrapped both hands around your waist and studied your face. You held your breath as his gaze drifted to the crimson on your lips.</p><p>“Don’t,” you whispered.</p><p>“What?” His eyes flickered back to yours.</p><p>“Don’t do what I think you’re thinking of.”</p><p>“I wasn’t—”</p><p>“Because I need you, I need you to be a better man than my boyfriend.”</p><p>He hung his head as you tenderly massaged his scalp with a nearly imperceptible amount of pressure. </p><p>“Men were never interested in me until I started dating him. And I know you like a good chase. But I need you to be better than he is. If you’re dissatisfied in your relationship, end it. Don’t use me as an excuse to get out of it.”</p><p>His fingers dug into your waist, inciting a gentle gasp from your throat.</p><p>“You love her,” you breathed.</p><p>“Of course I do.”</p><p>“But is it enough?”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“Is loving her enough for you? Because sometimes, love isn’t enough to justify building a life with someone.”</p><p>“I don’t understand.”</p><p>“I don’t think I do either.”</p><p>You draped your arms around his neck and leaned against him. Stephen kissed the top of your head and buried his nose in your hair.</p><p>But you jerked your head back when a mysterious dampness met your cheek. Blinking a few times, you pressed your fingers to the side of your face to confirm that, yes, you were crying. You could never stop your own tears to save your damn life.</p><p>“I should get home.” You peeled your body away from him.</p><p>“Is it enough?”</p><p>“If I just sleep this off…”</p><p>“Is loving him enough for you?”</p><p>You wrapped your hand along the side of his face and looked into his eyes.</p><p>“Take care of yourself.”</p><p>Holding your breath, you spun around and walked away from him; unsure of where you were going to go. </p><p>All you could hear was Isaac singing this exact song to you as he did many years ago. And, at that phase of your life, loving him was enough.</p><p>But would it be enough now?</p><p>Only time would tell.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. To Be Satisfied</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Outside your apartment, you shoved your keys into the lock with shaking hands. You cracked the door open to the sound of gentle notes from Isaac’s guitar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment you stepped inside, he stopped playing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, keep, keep going.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clea scampered to you as you closed the door. Scooping her into your arms, you sat on the couch across from Isaac as he played.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Simple Man</span>
  </em>
  <span> by Lynyrd Skynyrd. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When it came to the first lyrics, you surprised him as you took the proverbial mic and started singing instead. He commanded his fingers with the dedication of a true master of his craft, looking into your eyes as you, for once, sang to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, take your time, don’t live too fast. Troubles will come and they will pass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Offering him all you could at that moment, you stroked Clea in your lap as your heart ached for...well, you weren’t sure exactly what. But, after completing the final bars of the song, Isaac rested his palm over the strings and hung his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am so sorry,” he murmured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It seems like all I can do anymore is apologize to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isaac, that’s not true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But everything Tony said about me is.” He looked at you and shook his head. “I, I have been terrible to you. And I don’t know how to fix it, I don’t know how to even begin making up for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you could go to therapy like I’ve asked you to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just, I’m not ready for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ran his fingers through his hair and set his guitar aside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you. I love you more than anything. But everything I do, it just doesn’t feel like it’s enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry you feel that way.” You swallowed. “That must, that’s just awful. I don’t want you to feel like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad we can agree on something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We haven’t been arguing that much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you’re right. I just...I don’t know how to fix this. If I could go back in time and love you, love you the right way from the very beginning I would.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tony shouldn’t have said all those things. Especially in public like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you really call him? Every time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...I honestly don’t remember.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought things would be different,” he whispered. “I really did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They are, Isaac. We haven’t been this stable in...ever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inching toward you, he wrapped his hands on the sides of your face and pressed his forehead to yours; as if to heal you with his regret.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me make this up to you. I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But that’s just it.” You withdrew and shook your head. “I don’t want a life of apologies with you. I want a life where I get to love you. Where we get to love each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I’ll learn how to do that. I learn how to do it better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isaac…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking down, you picked at your nails as Clea leaped from your lap. He rubbed his palms together and sucked in a breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, don’t tell me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have spent all of our relationship waiting for you. I waited for you to commit to me, to say that you loved me, to apologize to me. I’ve been waiting for so long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You looked at him with remorse written across your face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just don’t know if I can wait anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you shouldn’t have to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You adjusted on the couch to lean against him, resting your head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around you and kissed the top of your head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m ready to be ready,” he said. “If you’re willing to give me just, just a little bit more time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pressed your ear to his chest, listening to the beat of his heart; as if it would tell you something different than your own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. I have to...I have to sit with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a deep breath, Isaac looked down and shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know he totally wants to get in your pants.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I thought that was obvious a long time ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not Tony, the other guy. Your co-worker.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor Strange?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he laughed weakly. “I mean, I don’t blame him. Just—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sat upright and shook your head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, he’s just having relationship problems and projecting them on me. Curse my nurturing personality.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isaac furrowed his brow. “Are you, like, into him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why don’t you call him by his name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is his name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you got his assistant…uh...I always forget...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Billy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And his girlfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Christine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the other surgeon he’s always poaching cases from.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And…what is his first name? I don’t even know what it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stephen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you ever call him Stephen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He loves his titles. At first, it started as a joke. But now, I don’t know. It just stuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isaac stroked your back as you laid your head back to his chest. He pursed his lips and shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s what? Some kind of surgical god?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He certainly thinks so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you just like being star-struck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isaac...what exactly are you implying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I dunno. If you had a bit of a groupie crush on the neuro guy, I think I could live with that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do not have a crush on him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey! I’m not saying you should sleep with him. In fact, I’d very much prefer you didn’t. But you know...you could tell me if he was like, the rock star of the hospital.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s actually the hospital pariah. He’s brilliant but a complete jerk. No one can stand him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A select circle that is primarily his girlfriend...no, wait! You’re right.” You poked his chest and grinned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My shadow was obsessed with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The 17-year-old genius?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had to carry a separate bucket just to catch her drool. I’d never seen anyone so desperate to be 18...and legal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snickered and leaned back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been there. Remember that year that prom-posals were in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They still are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The giant poster boards I had in my office back in April say yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks like the younger generation has moved on from me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then they have good taste.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just wait, I’m going to fall in love with you all over again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You giggled and pecked his cheek. Eyes brightening, Isaac traced the side of your face with his thumb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who did you go to prom with?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one. I didn’t go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bullshit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really. No one was ever into me in high school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were a total nerd weren’t you? A beautiful, brilliant nerd that any guy would have been lucky to go to prom with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice save.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I was a loner. So there’s no judgment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. You’ve told me before.” You nestled closer to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did I not know that you didn’t go to your own prom? We’ve been together for what? A decade?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think...I kinda lost track around year seven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Same. God, we’re old.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And only getting older.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell you what.” He tilted your chin so you were looking at him. “I’ll take you to prom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think they’d allow us in. Which, on part of the school, is probably a good idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s the creativity? We’ll have one here. But if you dance with the dog more than me, I will take that personally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isaac.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no. How did I mess it up so soon? I didn’t even prom-pose to you. Is it because I mentioned Clea? You’d rather go with her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The slightest smirk graced his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re going to figure this out.” You nodded. “Together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go to bed before the sun comes up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beautiful and smart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned off the couch with a grunt, offering his hand to help you to your feet. You gave his hand a squeeze and smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes, you missed him like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe you could find it in your heart to wait.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just a little while longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That night, your mind played tricks on you; allowing you to relive your first meeting with Isaac in your dreams. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the closest bar to the concert venue, you sipped your drink and chattered away on your cell phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So the date was a bust?” your friend asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In the limited free time I have, I do like to go to concerts. So I thought sure, why not kill two birds with one stone. Go to a concert and go on a date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because the primary thing I look for in a guy is efficiency.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For starters, he got us nosebleed seats. They were terrible! Like watching ants perform.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here we go…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I know Deception is soooo popular. But flarg, they are even worse live.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you shake him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told him I had to check in on some post-ops. I’m just swearing off relationships. This is stupid, men are stupid, and dating is stupid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think if you want to swear off relationships, you have to have been in one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ouch. Low blow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right. I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t matter anyway. I’m never going on another date again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You slammed your glass to the table just as someone leaned over the bar. He looked you up and down and smirked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that would be a real shame.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You whined as you cautiously turned your head to see the owner of that voice. But, memory failing you in this dream-state retelling, the person wearing the signature leather jacket was not your current boyfriend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the man you (now) knew as Stephen Strange.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks like that’s my cue,” your friend said on the other line.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, don’t you dare—farts.” You set your phone down and bore your eyes into the countertop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen furrowed his brow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No gasp, no stuttering, no frozen staring. Unusual. Then again, he had a sense you weren’t the average fan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just a beer for me.” He nodded to the bartender. “And another round for her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need another round,” you pouted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, if you’re going to sit there swearing off men all night long, it’ll be a lot more fun when you’re drunk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You jostled the ice in your glass and avoided eye contact with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or if you’re hungry, I can order you a burger, nachos, an entire sampler appetizer platter for one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” you hissed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen smirked. Oh, this would be fun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat down and leaned his elbow on the bar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who broke your heart?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one, if you must know. Just a disappointing first date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, you just came from the concert. Guy couldn’t appreciate good music?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at all!” You crossed your arms and leaned back in your chair. “He just assumed because I like music, I must like every possible kind of music regardless of quality.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold up. You were disappointed by </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>selection of musicians? As in...the concert you just went to? Because I was there and—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My condolences.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen raised his eyebrows and laughed, taking a sip of his beer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Who was this chick?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s to say you’re not the one with bad taste?” He shrugged. “Who are your top five?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In no particular order, Styx, Foreigner, Queen, The Beatles, and Elton John.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, you almost had me. Interesting mix. But Elton John? Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Compared to the garbage they just played in that stadium?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have no idea who I am, do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Am I supposed to be impressed by your dark, brooding, sexy leather look?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think it’s sexy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not your therapist! I’m not here to validate you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my God,” Stephen chuckled and crossed his arms. “Lemme buy you dinner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, did you not hear me say that I’m swearing off dating for the rest of my life?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t say it was a date.” He tossed a hundred on the counter. “Just that I’d buy your dinner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bolton!” Tony threw the door open and waved to Stephen. “Your drummer’s a lightweight. Let’s get out of here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be right there!” he called out before turning to smirk at you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That…That’s Tony Stark.” Your eyes widened. “Which means you’re...Oh, flork me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really hate my music don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t mean to….Oh my God.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You buried your face in your heads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S’cool. It’s refreshing to get an honest opinion.” He drained the rest of his beer. “Now, I know better than to ask for your number.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You peeked at him through the cracks in your fingers. Grinning, Stephen grabbed a sharpie from inside his jacket. He was used to having them on hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But if you ever want to share your scathing reviews of my life’s work, feel free to contact me personally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabbed your hand and scribbled his number on your palm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I might even get a real curse word out of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before you could reply, he winked and strutted out the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gasping yourself awake, you bolted upright; holding the sheets to your bare chest. You shook Isaac’s shoulder until he started mumbling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“D’you need me to let out Clea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you remember when we first met?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Course. I never thought you’d call me after that brutal job performance review.” He blinked a few times before fully opening his eyes. “But I’m glad you did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was not star-struck by you at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you were not. Quite the opposite. What’s this about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you and Tony still going to be friends after this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, babe. But can this conversation wait? Not everyone can get three hours of sleep and look like you do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d just hate for you two to not be friends because of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The reason we wouldn’t be friends with Tony is because he’s an alcoholic jackass who told the entire world every detail of our relationship issues.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah...you’re not pissed at him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s really struggling, Isaac. I think we should give him some grace.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed. “We can talk about this more tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sleep. You need to sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sharp exhale, you collapsed on your pillow and stared at the ceiling. But all you could do was wonder… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why didn’t you call Doctor Strange by his first name?</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I feel like I just need to get this off my chest. As readers, we're privy to the inner workings of our characters. But from the perspective of Sparkles and Stephen, they're sending each other mixed af signals. </p><p>Like...let me create profoundly intimate moments of comfort <i>and</i> ask you for advice about my relationship. I'm going to flirt with you but when I'm in serious trouble, I'm going to keep it a secret and then get completely plastered and not accept your help. I'm going to tell you not to kiss me and not be a cheating bastard like my boyfriend, but I'm also physically bringing you closer to me. </p><p>Not to mention that she's used to Tony being a total flirt and Stephen's seen their relationship (and physical interactions). Is it just me? Or do you treat all the men in your life like this? Is it just me? Or do all the guys in my life treat me like this? The lines between romantic, platonic, and even familial love are <i>very blurry</i>. Tony set that up a while ago.</p><p>Obviously, I'm biased. But if I were in a committed relationship, I wouldn't make a move either. That's just confusing af. They have to sort out their shit internally before they can start to figure it out externally. But they WILL get there. I can promise you that.</p><p>PHEW. Okay. I'm done.</p><p>PS -- yes, Isaac has some shit coming for him. From the first chapter, I signed myself up for 4 years of slow burn between Sparkles and Stephen and, at that point, she's <i>still</i> engaged to someone else. But YES. They'll end up together. Even if it's a long and winding road. We're just wrapping up year two because she first started working at Metro General around March / April in my mind.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Help Me, Doctor Strange. You're My Only Hope.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Time pressed onward and the new year rushed into your life in a blur. As the second anniversary of your employment at Metro-General approached, Stephen saw you less and less. </p><p>Pastries appeared outside the neurology office instead of on Billy’s desk. You took even more of your neuro consults to Nick. Well, the ones that even a moron could assist you with. </p><p>But, when it came time to repair a botched surgery for an 11-year-old patient with a cochlear implant, you graced Stephen’s office with your presence. Except instead of rushing to him in your usual flurry of petals and persuasion, he raised his eyebrows at a case file with a neon pink post-it note on top.</p><p>
  <em> Let me know if you have time for this one. </em>
</p><p>He snatched the file and darted to the door, ready to tell you that of course he had time for you—for this case—of course he had time for this case. But his grip tightened around the handle as he pursed his lips and shook his head.</p><p>No, if you wanted to see him, you would do exactly that. He was working on reading between the lines.</p><p>After the unfortunate Friendsgiving incident, Christine profusely apologized to him during his recovery period in the hospital. She leaned over the edge of his bed and shook her head.</p><p>“If I guy tried that with me, I would have strangled him. I really thought you heard me when I asked if you wanted...you know.”</p><p>“We could just never talk about it again.” Stephen shrugged.</p><p>“No, I need you to know that I never intended, I’m just so sorry.”</p><p>“I’m fine. You’re fine. We can put it behind us.”</p><p>“Stephen.”</p><p>“Christine…”</p><p>He furrowed his brow. But Christine drew in a deep breath before looking into his eyes.</p><p>“Do you want to be with me?”</p><p>“What? Of course I do. I am with you. Why would I...If I didn’t want…”</p><p>“Because I’m trying so hard to...God, this is so embarrassing. I’m trying so hard to impress you all the time.”</p><p>“Why would you need to impress me?”</p><p>“I don’t even know.” She buried her face in her hands. “I don’t feel like we’re connecting and I’m doing all sorts of insane and now terrible things to try to...I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore.”</p><p>No.</p><p>This wasn’t how things were supposed to go, even setting the unfortunate circumstances of this conversation aside. He was doing better, being better.</p><p>At least...he thought.</p><p>He reached out and took her hand in his.</p><p>“I’m with you because there is no other option.”</p><p>“I’m...the only...option.”</p><p>No. No. No. No.</p><p>This was not, no. His mouth couldn’t keep up with the concepts in his brain. Why was he so goddamn slow to explain this? What drugs were they pumping into his system? God, he hated that look on her face.</p><p>“No, please don’t misunderstand,” he stammered. “I’m with you because I love you and I-I can’t be with anyone else if I’m in love, if I love you. There’s...no other option. I have to be with you because I love you. This isn’t...I’m not doing this right.”</p><p>“I’ve never heard you say you’re in love with me.”</p><p>Aw, fuck. There’s a difference? Now he had to figure that out too.</p><p>“I, uh, I am. I am in love with you, Christine Palmer.”</p><p>She huffed an exhale and leaned back in her chair.</p><p>“Maybe we should take some time.”</p><p>“Apart?”</p><p>“No, no! Just time to talk through some of this. I mean, you’re going to be out of commission anyway.” She gestured to his, well, that was one thing that didn’t need to be said. “This might be a good opportunity for us to figure out where we want things to go.”</p><p>Oh no. God, no. Stephen was practically ready to run back into that OR with Tom the dickhead urologist than have to sit here and figure out how to communicate his fucking feelings. Or the future of his goddamn relationship.</p><p>But this is what people in relationships do right? Make themselves miserable to make the other person happy? </p><p>No...he was getting part of that wrong. He’d have to ask you about, about...what was he thinking about just now? Fuck, his brain was not operating at full capacity. Not unlike another part of him…</p><p>“Yes.” He nodded. “We can figure this out.”</p><p>She squeezed his hand and smiled. “I love you too.”</p><p>Good. Her face was, well, she looked a lot better now.</p><p>But unfortunately for Stephen, he didn’t sign himself up for a single night of expressing his unreachable emotions. What he thought was a one-and-done short term sacrifice for long term gain actually turned into weeks of talking.</p><p>So much talking.</p><p>And while he was known to be one to enjoy hearing his own voice, this was, well, nothing short of agonizing.</p><p>Even after he fully recovered (he checked one time, just to be on the safe side), Christine was terrified to touch him. These weeks rapidly turned into months of just...so...much...talking.</p><p>Dancing with you was the most physical contact he had in months. But now, because he somehow managed to always fuck things up, he didn’t even have you around to ask for advice. He threw himself into a hole and he had no idea how to climb (or even talk) himself out of it.</p><p>In the midst of these continual conversations with Christine, Stephen didn’t even have the mental capacity to think about the repercussions of what you said to him that night.</p><p>Or the feeling of your fingertips along his scalp.</p><p>Or the look in your eyes when you told him not to kiss you.</p><p>He hadn’t even opened his damn mouth and you still gave him one of the most haunting looks of his life. He wasn’t thinking about kissing you. Your mind reading powers were clearly faulty. But he could forgive your error in judgment given the emotional circumstances of the evening.</p><p> </p><p>As spring rapidly approached, nature shook off the weight of winter. But Stephen Strange was completely and utterly miserable.</p><p>He should have just let Tony Stark beat the shit out of your boyfriend. At least he would have enjoyed replaying that in his mind.</p><p>Yet, a bud of hope peeked through the cracks of his dry spell of decent human interaction when Stephen set out to perform a medical miracle.</p><p>He may not be able to properly express himself to his girlfriend. He couldn’t manage to get in the same room with you for more than two seconds. But he could, without a shadow of a doubt, make this woman walk again.</p><p>Thanks to the funding he received as a result of Stark Industries’ medical conference, his research was going remarkably well. In case anyone other than CNN, NPR, or even the damn New York Times bothered to ask.</p><p>And now, he would turn theory into reality.</p><p>In his office, Stephen reviewed the paperwork from his lawyers. There was certainly more of it than there used to be. But he held his breath at the sound of whispers outside the door.</p><p>“Just in case he needs any others...for his office. Of course.”</p><p>What were you dropping off for him?</p><p>“She’s fine,” Billy replied.</p><p>“Oh, I know she is,” your voice cracked. “She’s with the best people possible.”</p><p>“She misses you.”</p><p>Pause.</p><p>“Liam,” Billy continued, “he has an intuition about these things. What makes him great at his job. She does miss you.”</p><p>“It’s not permanent. I just…”</p><p>“She’s going to be fine. And you are too.”</p><p>“So you’ll, you’ll take those to him.”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>Open the door or not. Open the door or not. Open the door or—</p><p>By the time Stephen threw open his door, he only caught the sight of your heel as you left the office.</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>He nodded to Billy.</p><p>“Did we hear anything from the insurance company?”</p><p>“Insurance company? Which insurance company? Were we expecting something?”</p><p>Stephen furrowed his brow. “What are those?”</p><p>Grimacing, Billy shoved the box of homemade dog biscuits in a drawer and cleared his throat. </p><p>“Just some, uh, treats for Liam’s patients.”</p><p>“I see.”</p><p>“I’ll let you know if anything comes from an insurance company. For you or a patient?”</p><p>But Stephen already retreated back to his office and closed the door. He tossed his mug into the drawer with the goddamn talking stick and slammed it closed.</p><p>He couldn’t afford to be unfocused.</p><p>The future of medicine couldn’t afford for him to be unfocused.</p><p> </p><p>The day of his surgery, Stephen shook out his shoulders as he stood in the frigid OR. He glanced through the audience in the observation deck and throughout the room. </p><p>But, as expected, you were nowhere in sight.</p><p>It didn’t fucking matter anyway.</p><p>With the playlist up on his phone, Billy gave him a nod.</p><p>“Ready?”</p><p>“Yes. “</p><p>As Billy pressed play, Stephen requested a ten blade. </p><p>Yes, he would make history today. At least he had one thing, the most important, going for him.</p><p>The hands of the clock accompanied his procedure without falter. Seventeen hours later, the crowd certainly thinned as people took breaks, resumed their work, or simply found something better to occupy their time with.</p><p>Going home. Spending time with their families. Sleep.</p><p>At least his work was being recorded.</p><p>After his final cut, Stephen closed to an eager applause from his team. They would just have to see the results when the woman woke up in the morning.</p><p>No, Heather.</p><p>Her name was Heather.</p><p>Yet, Stephen’s breath caught in his throat when he looked up to see you, standing alone in the observation deck with your hands in your pockets. He swore he could see the ghost of a smile across your lips.</p><p>After two generous seconds of eye contact, you spun around and marched out of the room. </p><p>“Time,” Stephen demanded.</p><p>“1:34.”</p><p>Didn’t you have somewhere better to be—or someone better to be with—at 1:34 in the goddamn morning?</p><p>No.</p><p>He wasn’t going to stand here wondering when he could just get an answer. </p><p>Stephen raced out of the OR. He yanked off his mask and dashed down the hallway. And, yes, there you were entering the elevator.</p><p>Just as you turned around to press the button to your floor, Stephen ran (he wasn’t even sure how he closed the distance so quickly) and slammed his palm to shove the doors open.</p><p>“Why aren’t you at home?” he panted.</p><p>“Just heading there now. If you’ll let me leave this floor.”</p><p>“But you, you weren’t…” </p><p>“If you’re wondering why I wasn’t there earlier it’s because, for one, I knew the place would be packed and I also happen to have my own job to do.”</p><p>“When did you—”</p><p>“Got in just after seven.”</p><p>“Did you even eat dinner?” he blurted out.</p><p>God, he was sleep-deprived. What the fuck was coming out of his mouth?</p><p>“Good night, Doctor Strange. You did good work today.”</p><p>Stephen leaned back as you pressed the button to close the doors. Running his hand over his forehead and removing his scrub cap, he furrowed his brow.</p><p>At least he was going home to an empty bed.</p><p>He did not have it in him to talk anymore tonight.</p><p> </p><p>The next morning, Stephen woke up with a pleased smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. A text from Billy confirmed that Heather successfully moved her big toe. Even with good news, he was relieved that he didn’t have to be in the room. There was always too much hugging.</p><p>But Stephen furrowed his brow to see three missed calls and eight text messages from you. The three most recent being:</p><p>🚨 <em> Please call me back. </em> 🚨</p><p><em> I need you. </em> 😭😭😭</p><p><em> I’m going to die alone and the only way anyone will know is because of the smell of the body. </em> 😬 <em> HELP! </em></p><p>Narrowing his eyes, he obliged your plea and called you. You answered instantaneously. </p><p>“Please say you don’t hate me.”</p><p>“I don’t hate you.”</p><p>“Do you not hate me enough to do me a favor? Because I really need, you’re the tallest person I know.”</p><p>“You need me for my height? What about—”</p><p>“There’s a spider in my shower. And I just, help. Will you please help me?”</p><p>He failed to stifle a laugh. </p><p>“You need me to kill a spider for you?”</p><p>“Don’t laugh at me! And no! I don’t want you to kill her. She could have a family after all. I just need you to reach up by the shower head and take her outside.”</p><p>“But what if her family is inside your apartment?”</p><p>“Are you trying to give me a florking heart attack?” </p><p>“No, it didn’t really work the first time.”</p><p>“Doctor Strange,” you whined, “Are you going to help me or not? Because I can call Tony. But last time, he tried to get the spider off the ceiling by standing on the couch and she fell between the cushions and we spent the afternoon cowering in the kitchen until Isaac came home.”</p><p>“Where <em> is </em> your boyfriend?”</p><p>“Oh my God! Will you please tell me if you’ll help me or not? Or do you need me to use my feminine wiles on you? Because I am desperate.”</p><p>“Yeah, I’d like to see you try. I’m leaving now.”</p><p>He hung up and laughed to himself. But Stephen raised a brow at the texts that followed, containing an address that was not your apartment.</p><p>Wait, he knew this address. From where, from where, from where...oh yes, the guide you put together for out-of-town families that rated and ranked a variety of living arrangements near the hospital. </p><p>He knew this hotel. It was not cheap.</p><p>But before he could continue considering the likelihood that you <em> actually </em>had a spider in your hotel shower, his phone pinged with one more message.</p><p><em> Room 719. I owe you BIG </em> 😘</p><p>Two seconds later.</p><p><em> But please hurry because I might die of pure anxiety </em> 😫☠️</p><p>He smirked and texted you back.</p><p>
  <em> Your florist would be disappointed. </em>
</p><p><em> HELPPPPPP! </em> 🥺😭😉😉😉</p><p>One second later.</p><p><em> Yes, the last three faces were my wiles. Do they work? </em> 😬 <em> I know I’m pathetic. But please tell me you find it endearing? Endearing enough to rescue me. </em></p><p>God, you were desperate. Stephen sprang out of bed and threw on a shirt. Who was he to keep you waiting when you were so damn helpless? He texted you back.</p><p>
  <em> Omw. </em>
</p><p><em> THANK YOUUU! </em> ❤️❤️❤️ <em> Her name is Martha btw. </em></p><p>Stephen cocked an eyebrow.</p><p>Of course.</p><p>Of course you named the spider that most definitely existed because there was no other reason for you to ask him to a five-star hotel on a Saturday morning.</p><p>And even if the spider was real, it still begged the question…</p><p>Where the fuck was your boyfriend?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Ezekiel 25:17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The point of no return. </p><p>Knock or walk away. Knock or walk away. Knock or—</p><p>Fist meets wood.</p><p>“Oh, thank God,” you gasped as you threw the door open. “Took you long enough.”</p><p>Yes, he drove there, drove back to his apartment, cleaned the dashboard vents in his car, drove back to the hotel, watched the bellhop argue with a woman over a three dollar tip, counted the bills in his wallet, then made his way to your room. </p><p>Holding his breath, Stephen looked you up and down.</p><p>Maroon silk robe. Panicked eyes. And...was that shampoo dripping from the ends of your hair?</p><p>Breaking him out of his trance, you stomped your foot and gestured to the room. </p><p>“Don’t just stare at me! Help!”</p><p>“God, you’re pathetic.” He strode inside.</p><p>“Pathetic enough to be endearing?”</p><p>“Pathetic enough to surpass endearing and reach annoying.”</p><p>“Are you here to help me or be a jerk? Maybe I should have called Tony.”</p><p>“But you didn’t. You called me,” he snapped. </p><p>“Whoa! You don’t need to bite my head off. What’s gotten into you?”</p><p>“Where’s the alleged spider?”</p><p>“Alleg—oh, forget it. Last time I saw her, she was by the showerhead.”</p><p>Rolling his eyes, Stephen marched into the bathroom. But, observing the scene of the crime, he scoffed and looked over his shoulder.</p><p>“I knew it. There’s nothing here.”</p><p>“Oh no.” </p><p>Your eyes blew wide open and you scrambled onto the bed. With a hard swallow, you started furiously shaking your head.</p><p>“Did you, did you check the rest of the shower?”</p><p>Stephen’s eyes drifted around the bathroom.</p><p>“No spider.”</p><p>But his breath caught in his throat to see you fanning yourself with your hands, tears streaming down your face.</p><p>“I’m fi-fine,” you hiccuped. “I’m totally fine. It’s just a thing that, when I start crying I can’t stop.”</p><p>“Are you really this terrified of spiders?”</p><p>“YES! I’m a difficult person to buy gifts for, not as funny as I think I am, and can’t handle insects or spiders to save my life. A starting list of my, my personal defects.”</p><p>You squeezed your arms as close to your body as possible, scrunching your face. </p><p>“And I can’t even, can’t even get dressed because if I, I open a drawer and she’s there, I’m going to…”</p><p>Before you could process what was happening, Stephen’s arms were around you. The two of you collapsed to the bed as you shrank into yourself, burying your face in his chest.</p><p>“I’m never even going to get to rinse the shampoo out my hair!”</p><p>“Didn’t, I didn’t see her in there. So if you needed to, you could probably go in and—MOTHERFUCKER!”</p><p>“OH GOD NO. SHE’S—”</p><p>“Don’t look.” </p><p>He pressed your face to his chest, staring at the massive fucking spider on the ceiling above your bed. And it was a massive. Fucking. Spider. </p><p>Would a cup be big enough? Surely you’d protest if he squished one of its—no, her—legs. How was he going to get this giant ass spider off your ceiling without giving you a complete meltdown? Or inducing more of one?</p><p>You fisted his t-shirt and whimpered.</p><p>“We’re going to die in here.”</p><p>“Yes, just like this.”</p><p>“There’s a, a legal pad on the desk.” You pointed to the corner of the room. “You could, that and the cup on the bathroom counter.”</p><p>“You’re going to be okay if I—”</p><p>“Mhmm.”</p><p>You curled into the fetal position, shielding your face with a pillow as Stephen peeled his body from yours. He kicked off his shoes and snatched the designated legal pad. </p><p>As Stephen rushed to the bathroom, his eyes wandered to the writing scribbled across the yellow pages. </p><p>He didn’t mean to take note of the items on the list. But he couldn’t help but see Isaac’s name with a question mark, ‘new apartment’, and his own name with three question marks then crossed out...with vigor.</p><p>Glass in hand, Stephen leaped onto the bed. He slammed the cup over the spider, narrowly avoiding severing a leg. With surgical precision, Stephen slid the notepad over the top of the...Tony? Why did Tony’s name have ellipses after it?</p><p>Next to ‘job?’ </p><p>No, no, no, no. Don’t you dare escape, Martha. He was not going to traumatize you by dropping a spider on your face when you were firmly curled around his ankle.</p><p>Wait...when did you get there?</p><p>With the spider securely within her new confines, Stephen cleared his throat.</p><p>“Okay, will the balcony do it or—”</p><p>“Ground floor.” </p><p>“I figured,” he sighed. “If I’m going to, um...I’m going to need my leg back.”</p><p>“Mhmm.”</p><p>You carefully unfurled from him and he dashed out of the room. It wasn’t until Stephen was waiting for the elevator that he glanced down at his socks.</p><p>No. He would not read your notes on the ride back up. It wouldn’t be...appropriate. It wouldn’t be kind.</p><p>A few minutes later, you opened the door upon the knock that made your heart jump into your throat. Although your shampoo was successfully rinsed from your hair.</p><p>“Are you okay?” Stephen raised his eyebrows.</p><p>“Yeah, I-I’m fine.” You gestured for him to come inside. “Thank you. Thank you for coming down here even though I’ve been utterly awful to you.”</p><p>“Do you want to talk about it?”</p><p>You shook your head.</p><p>“Is there anything I can do? Other than serve as your personal pest control?”</p><p>“No, you were more than generous,” you laughed. “What can I do for you?”</p><p>Talk to me. Tell me where your boyfriend is and why you’re clearly living in a hotel room. Explain to me the difference between loving someone and being in love.</p><p>“Nothing.”</p><p>“Oh, please. You can’t wait to exploit this situation. I totally owe you for this. What do you want from me?”</p><p>Change. No. But don’t. But do. Fuck. All he knew was that you certainly didn’t have any clothes on underneath that robe. He wasn’t sure if, or, whether. God, it’s been so long since—</p><p>You raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to watch a movie?”</p><p>“You’re going out like that?” he blurted out.</p><p>“No, do you want to get a fuckton of room service and watch something on pay-per-view?”</p><p>“God, yes.”</p><p>You jumped in bed and shimmied under the covers, fluffing a few pillows next to you. Stephen rested on top of the comforter as you handed him the room service menu. </p><p>“You pick the food, I’m covering the movie.”</p><p>“How many talking animals am I signing myself up for?”</p><p>“Well, I was going to go for Pulp Fiction. But if you’d prefer, we can watch Anastasia. Get some talking bat action just for you.”</p><p>“You can’t look at a spider but you can handle Quentin Tarantino?”</p><p>“You’re the most egotistical, self-absorbed surgeon at our hospital but you rushed out of your place so fast to rescue me, you put your shirt on inside out.”</p><p>“I did no—”</p><p>He glanced down. Yes. Yes, he did. There were tiny wet spots underneath the tag on his chest.</p><p>“And backwards,” you added.</p><p>Well, at least he was courteous to wear some damn clothes.</p><p>“Oh.” Your eyes widened. “I-I didn’t think about...do you need me to change?”</p><p>Fuck. Did he say that out loud?</p><p>You pulled the comforter up to your neck and grimaced. But Stephen leaned over you and yanked the phone off the line on your nightstand. </p><p>Upon his smirk, you breathed a sigh of relief and turned on the TV. You made that florking remote your best friend as you desperately ignored the feeling of his body pressed against yours. Curse your recent lack of physical contact. </p><p>“We’re going to regret this.” He finished the order, leaning back over you to hang up the phone.</p><p>“We’re just two people, Strange. Not a high school football team.”</p><p>Crossing his arms and leaning back, Stephen smirked. </p><p>“But you like to take two or three bites of a bunch of different dishes instead of eating a whole meal like a normal person.”</p><p>“What? I do no—oh my God. I do. I eat like a rodent.”</p><p>“You said it. Not me.”</p><p>Stephen yanked off his shirt. With a squeak, you shielded your view of him with your hand. </p><p>“FUCKING HELL!”</p><p>“What?” </p><p>He pulled his shirt right-side out and threw it back on.</p><p>“Are you, you know, decent?” you stammered.</p><p>“I was never decent to begin with.”</p><p>“Doctor Strange, do you have your clothes on?”</p><p>He grabbed your wrist and brought your hand back to the comforter. </p><p>“Perfectly dressed.”</p><p>You furrowed your brow. “I, I have that same shirt. Foreigner.”</p><p>“Hm. You do have decent enough taste in music.”</p><p>Holding your breath, you stared at him for a moment and leaned against the headboard. You looked into his eyes and tilted your head to the side.</p><p>“Isaac and I are taking some time apart.”</p><p>“I suspected. When did you, you know...”</p><p>“The day after Tony’s Christmas party,” your voice cracked. “And now Billy and Liam have my dog. And I’ve been living out of a hotel room.”</p><p>“Does Stark know?”</p><p>“No. Other than Billy and now you, I haven’t told anyone.” You looked at the ceiling and drew in a breath. “But he did apparently pay off my student loans for Christmas and I got a massive refund check. So I’m...here.”</p><p>“And your boyfriend...he’s the one who asked for this separation?”</p><p>“No, Stephen.” Your eyes flickered to him. “I did.”</p><p>Stephen. He liked himself a little more when his name came from your lips.</p><p>“What are your inclinations for—”</p><p>“I’m looking for apartments. It’s, it’s not looking good for us.”</p><p>Your gaze finally reunited with his, waiting for his judgment to poison, well, everything.</p><p>Two years ago, Stephen would have kissed you. He would have more than kissed you. He would have consumed you. Because all he would have wanted was to have you for himself. </p><p>But now…</p><p>He had Christine. He could admit that he was more than a mess when it came to relationships...clearly. And he could see that you were terrified.</p><p>“And,” he swallowed, “you couldn’t talk to me because you were afraid...you were afraid that I would give you a hard time?”</p><p>“Um…I-I—”</p><p>“And you thought I would antagonize you for your choice of over-rated hotels?”</p><p>“I, um…”</p><p>“Because I’m an asshole.”</p><p>“Stephen.”</p><p>With a gentle smile gracing the corner of his lip, he placed his hand to the side of your face.</p><p>“It’s okay. I understand. The nurses made it amply clear how insufferable I am.”</p><p>You placed your hand over his and kissed his palm.</p><p>“You are utterly dreadful to be around.”</p><p>“I missed you too, Sparks.”</p><p>But your eyes flickered away at a knock on the door. </p><p>“That must be our mountain of food,” you murmured.</p><p>“On it.”</p><p>Stephen leaped out of bed. After leaving a generous tip at your expense—surely you wouldn’t give less than at least twenty percent on the low end—he returned with two trays of food. He carefully arranged the plates across the bed. You reached for a fry as he took a sip of water.</p><p>“So how’s your broken penis?”</p><p>He sprayed droplets everywhere.</p><p>“You knew?!”</p><p>“Yeah.” You took a bite and smirked. “Gremlin told me.”</p><p>Stephen snatched the remote from your hand and hit play. He was not going to talk about any of this with you. And certainly not when you were dressed like that.</p><p>And while it had been so long since anyone—including his girlfriend—touched him in the way you had, nothing compared to the sound of his name on the tip of your tongue.</p><p>What was he supposed to do now that you were finally leaving your boyfriend?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. But Think of the Children</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Ask her to dinner? Are you insane?” Tony mumbled under his breath. “God, there is too much sunlight to figure this out right now.”</p><p>Lying on the single mattress in the vacant room, he examined the blueprints for the rest of Stark Tower. </p><p>What was he thinking putting the transmitter so close to that beam? That was definitely an 8 am decision. He’d need to wait for the witching hour to work his full magic. And boy, did he have plenty of it. </p><p>Tony Stark was a certifiable genius with an IQ of over 270. He managed to save his own life on multiple occasions from people he didn’t dare trust and, even worse, from those he did. Some people have even started calling him a hero...although he still wasn’t sure how he felt about that.</p><p>But even for all his intellectual prowess, there was one fact that was now amply evident to him.</p><p>Tony was a fucking idiot.</p><p>“Move to New York, I said. It’ll be a great opportunity...says that man who makes his own damn opportunities.” </p><p>He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling.</p><p>“If she wanted to talk to you, she would just—speak of the…Sparkles,” he answered his phone.</p><p>“Hi. I never thanked you. For, you know, paying off my loans.”</p><p>“I got the card. Dog’s looking good.”</p><p>“Yeah, but, I really...I’ve been meaning to say it. To say it to you. So...thank you.”</p><p>“Always a pleasure to hear your voice. And you’re welcome.”</p><p>“Tony…” You sucked in a breath. “I have to tell you something.”</p><p>He bolted upright. “What did he do?”</p><p>“Can we just, um, meet for dinner tonight? Are you in the city?”</p><p>“Actually, yes. There’s some stuff, stuff I gotta tell you too.”</p><p>“Oh? What’s her name?”</p><p>God, he could see your smile even through the phone. </p><p>“No, even better. I’ll show you. Let me pick you up at 8?”</p><p>“That’s okay. I can, um, I can meet you wherever you need me. Just send me an address.”</p><p>“You okay?”</p><p>“Yes, Tony. I’ll see you tonight.”</p><p>By the time the cab driver dropped you off that evening, you asked if she had the address correct. What were you doing at an abandoned high rise? But when Tony walked up in jeans and a t-shirt, you paid the driver and exited the taxi.</p><p>“I’m a little overdressed,” you laughed.</p><p>“You look infinitely better than my construction crew. I’ll take it.”</p><p>With an uncertain hand, Tony patted your back one, two—should he do it a third time? Or was he trying too hard?—three times. You furrowed your brow as he cleared his throat. This was your first time seeing each other since...well, things just felt different.</p><p>“So this is your building?” you asked.</p><p>“Little side project I’ve been working on. C’mon. Lemme give you a tour.”</p><p>Your heels echoed against the cement as Tony walked you through his plans for the no-longer-lonely building. Clean energy. Clean energy. Clean energy. He was particularly emphatic about that part. Truthfully, you hadn’t seen him this lit up by anything in a number of years.</p><p>“And here—” He gestured for you to exit the elevator. “—the top ten floors will be dedicated to research and development. Although this one is mine.”</p><p>Tony watched you wander around the empty penthouse. It was unfurnished aside from a mattress on the floor and refrigerator. But at least he didn’t need you to wear steel-toed boots to safely walk around this floor. </p><p>You looked out the window and watched the city shuffle by. Standing next to you, Tony put his hands in his back pockets and peered onto the streets below. </p><p>“I don’t have to tell you. But we haven’t officially made an announcement. So…”</p><p>“Don’t worry. I’m well-practiced in the art of discretion. This stays between us.”</p><p>“You know, I’m thinking about moving here. Full time.”</p><p>“You’d miss driving along the Pacific Coast Highway.”</p><p>“You don’t think I should move here?”</p><p>“What?” You redirected your gaze from the window to him. “No, I think you should do whatever you want to do. Whatever’s best for you and your company.”</p><p>Crossing his arms, Tony leaned against the window and raised his eyebrows. </p><p>“So, um, what’s this news you had for me?”</p><p>“I broke up with Isaac.”</p><p>Whoops. That was, well, easier to say than you expected. </p><p>“Are...are you serious?”</p><p>“I would say as a heart attack. But that feels a bit insensitive.” You smirked. “He and I are still on good terms though. Everything was as amicable as it could have been.”</p><p>Tony drew in a breath. Of course. Of course, you were still on good terms with that jackass. He shouldn’t be surprised. Grimacing, he rubbed the back of his neck.</p><p>“What’s next for you?”</p><p>“I’m looking for apartments.”</p><p>“Move in here.”</p><p>“Tony.” You tilted your head to the side. “You know I can’t do that.”</p><p>“It was worth a shot,” he sighed.</p><p>As Tony propped himself upright, you knocked the air from his lungs with a tight hug. You were, wow, definitely stronger than you looked. But he certainly wasn’t complaining.</p><p>“I’m so proud of you,” you praised. </p><p>You leaned back and rubbed his arms. He tilted his head to the side.</p><p>“You’re...you’re what?”</p><p>“You’re actually excited about this.” You gestured to the vacant room. “You’re doing work you really care about. It’s a good look on you.”</p><p>“It was that or wearing your heels.”</p><p>“They would look better on you.” You took one shoe off and scrutinized it. “Although I don’t think these would fit you.”</p><p>Tony swiped the heel from your hand. Holding onto your shoulder for balance, he pressed the sole to his and chuckled.</p><p>“You’d have to hack off my toes.” He returned the heel to its rightful owner. “And I actually pretty attached to them.”</p><p>With a laugh, you threw your shoe back on just as his phone pinged. Confirming the message, Tony held up a finger and gave you a nod.</p><p>“Stay right here.”</p><p>He dashed to the elevator. </p><p>Humming to yourself, you hopped on the edge of the kitchen island. You still couldn’t get the sound of Isaac’s voice out of your head, no matter how much you tried to displace it with more pleasing melodies. </p><p>“And you’re sure this is what you want?” he asked.</p><p>“Yes, I-I’m sure.”</p><p>“Okay.” He rubbed his knees and stood up from the couch. “So what now? You, you want the apartment? It makes more sense for you and the dog to—Oh my God. Clea.”</p><p>“Isaac, we don’t have to figure out all the—”</p><p>“You didn’t,” his voice cracked, “you didn’t, like, cheat on me did you?”</p><p>“What? Why would you ask me...No. I didn’t. Like you’re one to—”</p><p>“I know, I know. I’m sorry. That was a, a fucking stupid question. I just...oh my God. Fuck.”</p><p>He pressed the heels of his palms to his forehead. With tears rimming your lashline, you crossed your arms and leaned back on the couch. </p><p>“You should know that I want to want...I want to want this. But I just can’t…”</p><p>“I know.” Isaac put his hands on his hips. “You’ll let me know if there’s anything I can do for you?”</p><p>“Yeah. I’ll look for a new place and let you know when I can pick up my things.”</p><p>“Okay, we’ll figure this part out too. Together.”</p><p>“Until we’re not.”</p><p>“Until we’re not.”</p><p>You whipped your head around as the elevator dinged to announce Tony’s return. He raised a paper bag with an eager grin.</p><p>“I bring dumplings. From that place you like.”</p><p>“Well, don’t you know how to make a girl feel special.”</p><p>“Oh, Sparkles. It is one of my many, many, many, <em> many </em>talents.”</p><p>“Are you going to list them out for me?”</p><p>“We’d be here all night. And we’d only cover the beginning of my intellectual capabilities.”</p><p>“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”</p><p>“Well, I already know how great I am. It’s your problem that you haven’t caught up yet.”</p><p>With a smirk, he set the bag on the counter next to you. After you helped Tony unpack dinner, he leaped on the edge of the island and handed you a pair of chopsticks.</p><p>“So...do you want to talk about it?” He cocked a brow.</p><p>“I need to find a place that allows dogs. I want a balcony too. So Clea can go outside. Maybe get her a grass patch since we live in a concrete jungle.”</p><p>“I think you’ll find that I can be an incredibly accommodating landlord.”</p><p>“Why do I get the distinct sense that this would be out of my price range?”</p><p>“What would I do with your money?” he scoffed. “I could, what? Pay my electric bill? Oh wait. You wouldn’t even have to worry about that. Another amenity I can provide for you. In addition to getting to see my face on a daily basis.”</p><p>“How about I think about it?”</p><p>“That is more than you usually give me. So I’ll take it.”</p><p>Tony hopped off the counter and grabbed a few beers from the fridge. It was the only working electric appliance in the building thus far. Priorities. </p><p>Using the edge of the counter, he popped off the lids and handed you a bottle.</p><p>“Cheers. To the two cutest roommates I could ask for. Just don’t track glitter all around my bedroom.”</p><p>“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”</p><p>You clinked his bottle and took a swig. </p><p>“You should know me better by now. It is one of my many, many, many talents.”</p><p>Drawing in a breath, you set your beer aside and bit your lip. You picked at the label, heartbeat increasing with every passing second.</p><p>“Tony, can I ask you a personal question?”</p><p>“I do put the lid on my toothpaste. But I will probably eat your food, even if you label it.”</p><p>“If I move in here, we’re not living on the same floor.”</p><p>“When you move in, the dog is going to prefer me over you.”</p><p>“Fat chance. She’s in love with the—wait, I had a legitimate question for you. But you don’t have to answer. Not if you don’t want to.”</p><p>“Shoot.”</p><p>You clenched your jaw and swallowed. This was, admittedly, out of your area of expertise. But this is why you were, erm, consulting a specialist...per se.</p><p>“When you, um…” You rubbed the back of your neck. “When you’re with...women, do they, uh…”</p><p>“Find themselves utterly speechless because of my illustrious beauty? Yes.”</p><p>“Tony! No, I mean, when you’re…”</p><p>Farts. You were a medical professional. This shouldn’t be so florking difficult to—</p><p>“When you have sex with women do they usually…” you hiccuped, “you know…?”</p><p>Tony narrowed his eyes. </p><p>“Are you asking if I know how to leave a partner satisfied? Because I have a streak of five-star reviews. Although, aren’t I supposed to be the one asking you for references? But, you know, your credit score and whatnot.”</p><p>“I just, I never could with, with Isaac. And I’m starting to think that maybe there’s something wrong with me. Like I’m...I don’t know...defective or something. I know you have, um, a lot of experience. So I thought I’d...you know what? Nevermind.”</p><p>Tony looked you dead in the eyes and shook his head.</p><p>“Trust me. You are not the problem.”</p><p>“Pretend that I never brought this up.”</p><p>With shaking hands, you proceeded to drain half your beer. Tony tilted his head to the side and studied you. </p><p>What was he supposed to follow that up with? Was he supposed to tell you it would be okay? That you’d figure it out on your own or...with someone else? God knows if anyone deserved to get off, it was you.</p><p>...Or was he supposed to offer to, er, help you? </p><p>No, that would definitely fall into the creepy category. And he was not a creepy kind of guy. </p><p>Besides, you were like his...sister? His sister who he’d also totally sleep with? Shit. He was definitely going to hell. Well, he knew that already. But this inner monologue was going at the top of the list when they denied him entrance at the pearly gates. </p><p>You weren’t supposed to be with him anyway. He knew that. You knew that. You loved the crap out of each other. But it was this weird, twisted kinda love that he couldn’t make sense of no matter how many nights he stayed up examining it. </p><p>No, you weren’t supposed to be with him. You were meant to be with—</p><p>“Doctor Strange can help us with any spiders.” You smirked. “He quite kindly rescued me from one at my hotel.”</p><p>“You’re living out of a hotel room?”</p><p>“I just needed some space. Space to clear my head and figure out what I wanted.”</p><p>“That’s it. You’re moving in here next week.”</p><p>“Tony, I couldn’t ask that of you.”</p><p>“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” He put his hands to his chest. “Think about the children. Well, the dog child. She’d have so much more space here than anywhere else you’d find. And you’re still within spitting distance of your job.”</p><p>“Am I just a magnet for stubborn, arrogant men? You’re not going to give up on this are you?”</p><p>“One, you should know me better by now. And two, my arrogance is well earned. I’m sending some guys to get your things.”</p><p>“Fine. But this is just temporary.”</p><p>“Whatever you have to tell yourself.”</p><p>You rolled your eyes and sighed. “I do miss Clea.”</p><p>“Then it’s settled. You’re both moving in tomorrow.”</p><p>“And the three of us are supposed to share that bed?”</p><p>“I can guarantee that the experience would exceed all expectations. But no. You’d be surprised how much I can do in one day.”</p><p>“Next week.”</p><p>“Okay.” He rolled out his shoulders. “We’ll compromise. Stay here tonight.”</p><p>“Mmm, how about next month?”</p><p>“We are not good at this negotiation thing, are we?” He smirked.</p><p>“Yeah, how did they put you in charge of a billion-dollar company?”</p><p>“I ask myself the same question every damn day.”</p><p>Drawing in a deep breath, you slowly exhaled and smiled at him. </p><p>“Next week is perfect.”</p><p>“Alright, but if you fall in love with me, you only have yourself to blame.”</p><p>“Shut up and eat your dinner, Anthony.”</p><p>“Oh, now I’m really in trouble.”</p><p>“Can we get a grass patch?”</p><p>Chuckling to himself, Tony grabbed a dumpling between his chopsticks and gave you a nod. </p><p>Yeah, you were going to love living here.</p><p>He’d make sure of it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. I Now Pronounce You Ex-Husband and Wife</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>As Tony expected, you did not move within the next week. All of your belongings were out of Isaac’s place. But when it came to your migration from the hotel to the tower...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You were always working late. Or forgot to pack your suitcase. Or flat-out ignored his calls and texts, always conveniently redirecting the conversation with a dog picture from Billy or Liam.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t bother taking it personally. Not only did you have a tendency to operate on a different timeline than most people—a fact that he was quite used to by now—he had an actual project he was, for once, genuinely invested in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One innocent Wednesday afternoon, you scarfed down your lunch at your desk. Between bites of your Greek salad, you hammered away at the keys in a desperate attempt to chase inbox zero. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Did it exist? You may never know. But you’d be darned if you didn’t try.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But you jolted out of your web of focus when the door flew open. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Strange...you weren’t working a case together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stephen sat on the edge of your desk and massacred his own lunch with a fork. You cocked an eyebrow and peered at him from behind your monitor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi,” he snapped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, great. It was one of those days.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shaking your head, you continued to write a detailed follow-up email to a concerned parent. But—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my God. Are you chewing on glass?” You glared at Stephen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pumpkin seeds,” he grumbled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As much as I’m enjoying the new audio track to my otherwise peaceful lunch, what the flork are you doing here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought it was obvious.” He held up his take-out container. “I’m eating lunch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you for mansplaining that to me. But no, jerkwad. Why are you here? Why aren’t you demolishing that fancy bowl of fifty-one grams of protein at your own desk?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes flickered from you to his food.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everything went fine with the cochlear implant?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, of course. You did great—Wait.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You smacked your palm to the desk and narrowed your eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I already told you about...what are you avoiding so desperately that you’d rather talk to me about patient follow-up than...Are you okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stephen leaned his head back and groaned. “I am fine. Everything is fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You resumed your multi-tasking. But after a moment of silence adorned with the occasional munch and crunch, Stephen drew in a breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m avoiding Christine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“By hiding out in my office?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yup.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do I want to know what’s going on between you two?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright. You can eat lunch in here but—Hey! No sprinkling flax seeds all over my stuff!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Those are hemp seeds.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m granting you asylum and you’re going to use this as an opportunity to be a brat?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugged, spinning around your monitor to read your half-written email. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, you write out this much for everyone?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Give me back my screen! And watch your language, Doctor Strange. You’re on the pediatric floor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should just set up an autoresponder.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t remember asking for your advice. I don’t remember asking for you at all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“While you were awake.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, get out!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Scrunching your face, you sprang to your feet and jabbed a finger to the door. Stephen raised his eyebrows, appreciating your uncanny resemblance to an angry kitten.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh no,” he deadpanned. “I am quaking in my scrubs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sometimes, I just want to wrap my hands around your throat and </span>
  <em>
    <span>strangle</span>
  </em>
  <span> you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kinky.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“FLARG! You are so annoying!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For fuck’s sake, you’re a surgeon. You should have a more effective method of murder than strangulation. You know, it doesn’t happen as quickly as it does in the movies. You have to keep applying pressure after they’ve passed out to—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Will you just SHUT UP?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smirked. God, you were easy to rile up. This might be his new favorite lunchtime hobby.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you’re still living out of a hotel room?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.” You resumed writing your email.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Found any apartments you like? Tenant across from me just moved out. I could put in a good word for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tony asked me to move in with him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stephen froze. “Are you two...you know...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re not dating.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gulped. That...that didn’t answer his question.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you, um, did you hear the song your ex wrote?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Isaac hasn’t come out with any new music in years. Since before we moved from Baltimore.” You clicked ‘send’ and glared at him. “And he’s not my ex. He’s my...former boyfriend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s the difference?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ex feels too harsh. We don’t hate each other or anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you still talking to him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. I mean, kinda. Not a lot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you still in love with him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, I’ve got an idea.” You pointed your fork at him. “Why don’t we talk about your relationship problems?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s all I’ve been doing for the past four months. And it’s gotten me nowhere.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You leaned back in your chair and swiveled in a circle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you’re the most emotionally expressive man I know. I don’t see how you could be struggling to have productive conversations about your feelings.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pouting your lip, you batted your eyelashes. Stephen released an exasperated sigh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For the record, we aren’t talking about our </span>
  <em>
    <span>feelings</span>
  </em>
  <span>. We’ve moved on to ‘what we really want out of this’ because someone ‘wants to know where this is really going’.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, yes. So you’re feeling a little insecure?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was not, I’m not the one who—those were her words, not mine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You giggled to yourself and yanked an olive off your fork. God, he was easy to rile up. Maybe his lunchtime visits wouldn’t be so terrible. Or if they were, they’d be terribly entertaining.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because honestly, I don’t know why she would bother putting a ring on it.” You shrugged. “You’re arrogant, self-absorbed, astonishingly irritating, and you eat so much nutrient-dense food, you suck all the joy from the room.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, I’m getting weak at the knees.” He rolled his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re totally one of those ‘my body is my temple’ guys. It’s so annoying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The mind-body connection is proven to—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, talk research to me. So sexy,” you mocked. “Is this what you do when you talk about the future of your relationship? Because I’m surprised she hasn’t just kicked you out yet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like you’re an exemplary display of relationship success? Taking advice from you is as disastrous as getting an assist from your shadow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Her name,” you swallowed, “is Mia.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blinking a few times, you redirected your attention to your screen. Stephen furrowed his brow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you...are you actually offended? You know I—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is there anything else I can do for you, Doctor Strange? Since talking about relationships is not my subspeciality.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have a few important emails to write to incredibly concerned parents. So if you don’t mind…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a huff, Stephen leaped off your desk and made his way to the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, and Doctor Strange?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, I—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll see you tomorrow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tomorrow? Do we have a surgery?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, but we do have a lunch date. Now get out of here before I have to wash your mouth with soap.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stephen sucked in a breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So are you...back in the dating pool?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” you laughed. “God, no. I’m living out of a hotel room. How would I even? No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, hotel bar. It’s a convenient—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not dating anyone. And I’m about to be living with Tony Stark. So I have a feeling that might ramp up my intimidation factor.” You narrowed your eyes. “Why do you care?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just looking out for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took one step out the door. But before he was fully in the hallway, Stephen spun around and waved a finger at you. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It shouldn’t. It shouldn’t make you more intimidating. Not to the right person.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You cocked an eyebrow. “And who would that be? You?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? No, I’m just trying to say that—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fuck. Maybe he was really bad at this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You crossed your arms and smirked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know that we have the chemistry of an old married couple, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eh, more like a divorced one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, yes. Allow me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You gestured between the two of you. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do. You do. God, we lost the spark so fast. But at least there weren’t children involved. We divided up the kitchen appliances. You kept the house. I got the dog. And now we are blissfully happy being married to our careers. The end.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Am I your ex-husband or your former husband?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you’ve definitely reached ex-husband status. It was a bitter separation.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We fought over the car?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, Stephen. The concert tickets.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You gave him a wink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chuckling, Stephen exited your office and made his way to the elevator. Maybe being your ex-husband wasn’t so bad.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Saturday night following your divorce, Stephen crossed his arms and leaned against the nurses’ station in the ER. Christine rubbed his shoulder and smiled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can head out in just a—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But she whipped her head around as a piercing shriek echoed through the room. Two parents rushed in with their daughter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wait, Stephen knew her. This was the girl—Olivia. Right, that was her name—who he operated on to fix the cochlear implant. You said she was fine, that everything was fine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We don’t know what’s wrong,” Mom cried. “She just sporadically starts screaming and putting her hands over her ears. She won’t tell us what’s wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mom. Mom. Mom. Her name was...Ava. And Dad was...William, preferred Bill.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stephen and Christine rushed over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m Doctor Stephen Strange. I’m the neurosurgeon who operated on your—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did you do to her?” Bill snapped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Parent management. Most of your job was parent management. And while Stephen would never fucking admit it to you, he knew amply well that you had the hardest job of anyone in that damn hospital. For reasons that he (unfortunately) knew quite personally.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Christine soothed. “Come with me and we’ll get you situated.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Christine grabbed her pager, Stephen tugged on her wrist and shook his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s not here tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. I’m still paging her department. Who has the night shift?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Call her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s not on call tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What the fuck was he doing? Stephen whipped out his phone and called you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doctor Strange,” you whined. “Your timing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There was a complication with Olivia’s surgery. The patient with the—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m on my way. Be there in five.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stephen crouched next to Olivia and put on his best, most...sparkly? smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi, Olivia. My name is Stephen. Can you tell me about the—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hands over her ears, she started screaming again. Stephen bolted upright and pinched the bridge of his nose as Christine talked to the parents.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing, there was nothing wrong. Everything went flawlessly in the surgery. Even after the hack job that...No. Cochlear implant complications. The most common complications…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you hear ringing? Are the noises too loud?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He started examining the implant. But the girl curled her knees to her chest and started rocking back and forth on the hospital bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Five minutes. You said you would be here in five minutes. But when he looked over his shoulder, he sucked in a breath to see Bill completing paperwork and talking to Christine… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>...And you rushed up to them with your hair and make-up done, a navy cocktail dress, and heels that gave your usual stature quite the (flattering) boost.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She said there weren’t any complications with the surgery,” Ava whimpered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stephen whipped his head around.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There was nothing wrong with the surgery.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well clearly, something is—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ava.” You extended your hand. “We’re going to take care of her. We are going to find out what’s going on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I looked it up on the drive over and it could be, could be a perilymph fluid leak? Tinnitus? Or a reparative granuloma? Could she be rejecting the implant?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re going to take a good look at her. Run some tests. And I promise, we will get you more information as soon as we—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You flinched as Olivia threw her hands over her ears and shrieked with her entire lung capacity. Stephen shook his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t see anything externally.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doctor Strange, a word?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You grabbed his arm and led him aside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re going to have to open her up,” he said. “CT would only give us limited detail with the implant and we’d have to surgically remove the magnet to even give her an MRI.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You checked for numbness, ringing, or, or, static?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She won’t answer any of my questions.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need to examine her myself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stephen spun you around before you could leave. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you hear her? She is in excruciating pain. If we at least sedate her—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We are not putting an 11-year-old under general anesthesia unless absolutely necessary.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heels tapping with defiance, you stomped back to your patient. Dragging his hand over his hair, Stephen watched you as you extended your palm to Olivia.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it the noises, Olivia? Are they too loud?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stephen crossed his arms and drew in a breath. He already asked these questions. You were just wasting time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To no one’s surprise, Olivia didn’t respond. It was strikingly unlike her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you read any good books lately? Can you squeeze my hand if enjoyed the last story you read?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Squeeze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, wonderful. Maybe you can tell me about it sometime. Can you answer some questions so we can help you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Squeeze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is there ring—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>SCREAM.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her hand nearly crushed yours as the other covered the ear without the implant. You furrowed your brow. When her episode was over, you tilted your head to the side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Olivia, do you feel the pain in your magic ear?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s in your other ear?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Squeeze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You looked at Stephen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you examine her other ear?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flashlight in hand, Stephen already leaned down and scrutinized the ear in question. But he didn’t even need an otoscope to see the bug lodged in Olivia’s ear canal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s an insect.” He looked at you. “I think it’s biting her eardrum.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Under any other circumstances, Stephen would have gladly passed off this case to anyone in the ER. But he reached for some forceps as you guided Olivia to lay down on the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doctor Strange is going to remove the bug from your ear. I need to you lie very still. Can you do that for me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Squeeze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You nodded to Mom and Dad.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need you to hold her down. Just in case. Especially her head.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The moment that Dad touched her, Olivia shrieked. When her pain subsided, Stephen seized the divine timing and inserted the forceps to remove the bug. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aw, shit. Well, he got half of it. At least it couldn’t bite her anymore?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stephen inserted a bulb syringe of warm water into Olivia’s ear and gently flushed out the rest of the...oh, this was nasty. This was one of the many reasons why he hated working in the—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She should be fine,” he reported, indulging himself in the slightest smirk as he looked at you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Collective sighs of relief.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was just a bug?” Ava gasped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stephen nodded. “Just a bug.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s actually more common than you’d think,” you confirmed. “We’ll get the ENT to confirm that there wasn’t any permanent damage. But she should be fine to go home tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You left to relay the information to Christine. When she went to reach out to the Ear, Nose, and Throat specialist, Stephen pulled you aside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? You’re fine. She’s fine. I appreciate your help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, not for...I’m sorry for ruining your even—your date. You were clearly out tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. Um, I wasn’t on a date.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not a date?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” You pressed your fingers to your forehead. “I just wanted to feel like I wasn’t a shriveled up prune. Kind of, um, just went to get a drink at the hotel bar to...dip my toe in the water.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It didn’t go well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, it was really stupid. I’m nowhere near ready to...well, I’m checking out when I get back and just moving in with Tony.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stephen still didn’t understand your relationship with Tony Stark. Maybe he never would. But there was a part of his conscious mind that said he shouldn’t feel uncomfortable by that last sentence and yet…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where exactly are you living?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Did his voice crack at the end there? How old was he?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t really say anything yet. But I just need to get the fuck out of that room. It’s time. It’s really time.” You rested your hand on his arm and smiled. “Thanks for calling me. Take care of yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You grabbed your phone and dialed Tony before Stephen could reply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heart hammering inside his chest, Stephen skidded into the ER and raced to find Christine. At the nurses’ station, he threw himself over the counter and shook his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t do this,” he panted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I promise, you won’t have to work the ER any—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, our relationship. I can’t...I can’t be in our relationship.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With wide eyes, Christine looked at the nurse and barely opened her mouth. But before she could even request some much-needed privacy—what the fuck, Stephen?—the nurse darted from the desk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you breaking up with me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned on his heel and got out of the ER as fast as he fucking could.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Like you said…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was time.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. Tony Stark, a Simple Kind of Man</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Using <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XLGKb6OLKpM">I Hope You're Happy</a> by Blue October for Isaac's song. <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ZzXicobmLttTX2GLhLNMo?si=fPBpYrZ8Qh2-Tvw-l1KF9A">Spotify playlist for this story.</a></p><p>Warning that this chapter references r*pe.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Now is just as good a time as any.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You looked in the bathroom mirror of your hotel room and drew in a breath. All you had to do was grab a drink at the bar. It was just downstairs. And if you hated it, you could come right back up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This wasn’t, it wasn’t about dating. You weren’t trying to meet, or worse, hook up with anyone. This was just putting yourself out there and reminding </span>
  <em>
    <span>yourself</span>
  </em>
  <span> that you were a delightful, desirable…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah, you were definitely trying too hard. But it didn’t matter. You were doing this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the bar, you hopped on a stool and ordered a club soda. You’d have all night to drink alcohol. You didn’t need to rush yourself or anything. As you nursed the soda, you examined the types of souls who graced a hotel bar on a given Saturday night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, why did people put themselves through this? Were you supposed to talk to someone? Anyone? Just strike up a conversation like you knew what the flork you were doing? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least...that’s what Isaa—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. Tonight wasn’t about him. This was about you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And what you really wanted to do was, well, not be alone. So, you’d just have to do something about that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As it turns out, that something was sipping your drink and tearing your napkin into smaller and smaller pieces while the bartender checked up on you every thirty seconds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure there’s not anything I can get you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You put a twenty in the tip jar and shook your head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m just about one bad relationship away from having fifty dogs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He indulged you with a light chuckle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You in from out of town?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no. I...actually I am. Yeah, I’m just so used to saying no. Because I never go anywhere or do anything interesting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You work a lot?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could say—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But you sucked in a breath at the song change. You’d never heard this one before. But there was something familiar about it. The voice...that voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The look on your face must have told an entire tale because the bartender leaned over and smirked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know. I was kinda surprised too. It’s the dude from Deception.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The-the rock band?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhmm. Guess he got out of his creative rut or however that stuff works.” He shrugged. “Heartbreak will do that for you, I suppose. Maybe you two can get fifty dogs together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Because I hope you’re happy. Even if you’re not mine.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Your breath hitched just as your phone rang, displaying Stephen’s caller ID.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor Strange,” you whined. “Your timing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was a complication with Olivia’s surgery. The patient with the—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m on my way. Be there in five.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanging up the phone, you shoved another twenty in the tip jar. The bartender raised his eyebrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you already—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to be living with Tony Stark soon. It really doesn’t matter. Do something nice for yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You abandoned the bar in favor of more hospitable grounds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After you left the hospital, it only took you twenty minutes to shove all your clothes in your suitcase. Baggage in hand, you threw open the door just as Tony raised his fist to knock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I told you I could meet you downstairs.” You waved your hand before he could even reply. “You know what? Nevermind. It’s great to see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a gentle smile, you pecked him on the cheek. Tony grabbed your suitcase and drew in a breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have good news and bad news.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give me the bad first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You might have to share a floor with me. For now. Don’t worry. You’ll have your own room. I just—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not a problem. The good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a surprise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...know better than to ask questions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I know better than to have answers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He held the doors to the elevator open for you, sliding in next. When the doors closed, you sucked in a breath and stared at the light that indicated your descent from floor 7...6...5…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you hear his—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Tony answered. “You won’t have to worry about hearing it in the tower.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How is it that we were together for all those years. But the moment we separate, he writes the first song that I actually like? Loving me wasn’t enough to inspire him. But losing me was.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>3...2...1…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doors dinged open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But before you knew it, one elevator melted into the next and you were on your ascent through the tower. You grabbed Tony’s hand and gave it a squeeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something wrong?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just want to say thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s no—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Tony. Thank you. I’ve been living by myself in 400 square feet. And I honestly can’t wait to share a couple thousand with you. Not just for the space, but I’ve been </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> lonely. So I-I’m happy, I’m relieved that you are my roommate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Sparkles.” He smirked. “I’ll do you one better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doors opened up to reveal…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“CLEA!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You darted across the threshold to commence a long overdue offering of belly rubs and ear scratches. Tony rolled your suitcase aside and smirked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s been here for a few days. Adjusted flawlessly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve had her here for days?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I had to convince you move in somehow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You scratched Clea under her collar, voice reaching that squeaky tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are going to get in so much trouble here, aren’t we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony snickered, “It has been a long dream of mine to live with two beautiful women. Although the circumstances were, admittedly, different.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You scrambled to your feet and threw your arms around him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for being you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one else was going to take the job.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kissed your cheek as you withdrew. You beamed at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I appreciate you infinitely. And I’m also completely exhausted. Do you mind if I turn in for the night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, thank God you said something. I’m so fucking tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When did we get so old?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If anyone asks, I was up all night having sex.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your secret is safe with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon, let me show you to your room.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He whistled to Clea and led you down a hallway. But when you saw the door, you managed to squeak out a laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The doctor is...in. Out. In. Out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You fiddled with the slider and smirked at Tony.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Had to give it some personality.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He threw the door open and Clea rushed to her crate. With a grimace, Tony scratched the back of his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, um, I slept here the past few nights to help her acclimate. I hope that’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For being such a cocky playboy, you truly are the most thoughtful man I know, Tony Stark.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You gave his hand a generous squeeze before retiring to your new room for the evening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, against your wishes, you were staring at the ceiling by 3 am. Because while Tony and your boyfriend—no, ex-boyfriend—were amply used to regularly sleeping in new places, you were not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Tony knew that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fucking knew it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which is precisely why, at 3:28 am, he was not surprised to hear the clicking of Clea’s nails from the hallway. Tony rolled onto his side and drew in a breath. But he furrowed his brow when the door cracked open and Clea leaped onto the foot of his bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His breath hitched as the mattress dipped on the other side. You wrapped your arms around him and drew him close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you’re not sleeping,” you grumbled, cheek pressed against his upper back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m not anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a busy, important man, Tony Stark. As I medical professional, I have to tell you that you can’t afford too many restless nights in bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who do I have to pay off to change that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolled onto his back and smirked; not that you could even see it in the darkness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I still love him. Does that make me stupid?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, just more forgiving than most people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nestling next to him, you rested your head on his shoulder and draped your arm across his chest. With a slight ache in the back of your throat, you sucked in a breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never told you how terrified I was when you went missing. Or were...held captive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least someone other than the C-suite was concerned.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean it.” You gave him a squeeze. “I barely ate anything for a month. Isaac told me not to worry because it was completely out of our control. But I just...and then you came back and you wouldn’t, still won’t, let anyone look at that damn chest piece of yours. I know some of the best cardiothoracic surgeons in the world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The tech is too advanced for them. Doesn’t matter anyway. Because I’m fine. I’m here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why won’t you let someone take care of you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Funny, I could ask the same to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but we aren’t talking about me right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tracing the side of his face, you redirected his gaze to you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it was a good thing—or perhaps a miraculous one—that Tony couldn’t see your face at this delicate moment in time. Because you had yet to grieve the death of the very man who lay next to you. And it was written all across your face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart, even in the best of conditions, would never be able to handle it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not the only one with trust issues, Tony. If you ever need someone to talk to, you have me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony placed his hand over yours and drew in a breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew the reason you were in his bed was because of loneliness. The reason you told him everything you did was because of loneliness. And he also knew the reason he grabbed you and pulled you on top of him was also...because of loneliness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He placed his hand to the side of your face and shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not done with him, are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cloaked in darkness, that was a good enough answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For both of you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony pulled you to him and kissed you with a decade's worth of unspoken words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just wanted to apologize. Apologize for the man he was when he first met you. Apologize for the grief he instilled within you. Apologize for not being able to take care of you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried to imprint that apology onto your body as he gripped your waist. And he could have sworn, for a moment, you felt it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With one hand propping you up—for it was the only thing you would let support you—you crept your fingers into his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isaac devoured your heart, tearing it into bite-sized pieces. Because he feared it when it was whole. But you picked up the remaining shreds and held them in your palm to offer something, anything to your heartbroken friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet, as Tony pulled you closer to him and united his tongue with yours, you realized that he didn’t actually want anything from you at all. Which felt even worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pressing your palm to his chest, you pulled away just enough to shake your head. While he couldn’t see the tears staining your face, he could hear the uncertainty in your voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I can’t. I’m so sorry,” your voice cracked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I shouldn’t have. This is my fault.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I could, I would.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pressed your forehead to his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know I’m not mad, right?” he murmured. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just, you’ve been so good to me. And I-I can’t—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, hey, hey.” He wrapped his hand along the side of your face and shook his head. “I don’t expect you to have sex with me because I’ve helped you out a little bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tony, you have done more than help me out. I owe you. I more than owe you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Protected by darkness, Tony was utterly relieved that you couldn’t see the pure bewilderment on his face. He squeezed your hips and released a pained exhale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not, I don’t see sex as...you know what? Come here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He guided you onto your side and wrapped his arms around you, offering you a lifetime’s worth of apologies as you finally fell asleep. He just didn’t have it in him to unpack everything you said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next morning, you patted the other side of the bed. But upon the cool touch, you bolted upright and looked around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tony? Clea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buckling his watch around this wrist, Tony walked out of the bathroom and gave you a nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know that you talk in your sleep?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And grind your teeth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nodded again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I fed the dog. She’s enjoying your balcony right now. Or maybe I should just call it hers. It’s kinda her kingdom anyway.” He pointed to the doorway. “Coffee’s in the kitchen. Fridge is stocked but if you don’t want to make anything, there’s a menu and phone number on the counter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tony…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” He raised his eyebrows and threw on his suit jacket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck is going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t get mad that I’m a master of productivity and had half a day before you even woke up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re leaving?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just a quick business meeting. Should be back in no more than an hour.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Why? You, um, need something from me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you’ve done plenty. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That shirt looks good on you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony gave you a nod, referencing your Styx tee. Without another word—Lord knew he was full of them—he spun around to exit the bedroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But before he could make it to the doorway, you scrambled from the bed and threw your arms around him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me know if you need anything.” You kissed his cheek. “I really mean it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Biting his lip, Tony tightened his grip around your waist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will. I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He left you to your thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his car, Tony yanked off his jacket and unbuttoned his dress shirt; leaving his t-shirt on underneath. With screeching tires, he tore onto the road and made his way to your old apartment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tapped two knuckles to the door and put his watch in his pocket. The moment Isaac opened the door, Tony slammed his fist to his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“FUCK!” Isaac reeled back and covered his nose. “Tony, what the FUCK?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony grabbed the front of Isaac’s shirt and slammed his back to the nearest available wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you do to her?” he hissed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is your problem? Nothing. We barely talk anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She thinks everything is transactional. And I know for a fact that she didn’t learn that by herself. What did you do to her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the FUCK are you talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened in Denver?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve never even been to Denver together!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I swear to God, the only reason I’m not killing you right now is because it would break her heart. And I’m not putting her through anything else. But if you tell her this happened, I will deny it until the day I die.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like she’s going to believe you,” Isaac growled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, man. You think she’s going to listen to me, the guy who’s given her a place to live and doesn’t expect sex as a favor? Or you? The guy who doesn’t even realize he raped her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Raped her?! I never—” Isaac clenched his teeth. “Denver...That was, that was just a miscommunication.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A lack of ‘no’ isn’t consent, you utter waste of human existence. If you EVER go near her again, I will see to it personally that you are erased from the very fabric of the universe. Trust me, they will never find the body.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some hero you are. Fucking my girlfriend the first chance you get.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know exactly what I am, Bolton. Do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony shoved Isaac aside and marched out the door; both men knowing full well that the musician simply couldn’t afford to punch him back.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. It's Different in the Daylight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>FUCK. I finally did it. I got a new chapter. More coming (hopefully) soon.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You were spending more time with Tony Stark.</p><p>That much was evident simply by your recent taste in music. </p><p>Since you moved in with Tony, you became the hospital’s morning spectacle. And it’s a good thing you didn’t florking care. Because Stephen was embarrassed enough on your behalf. </p><p>This particular morning, as he sipped his coffee in the main lobby, you came parading through with your headphones blaring. Based on your general rhythm and the pattern of this week’s musical selection, you were listening to <em> For Those About to Rock (We Salute You) </em> by AC/DC. </p><p>Well, that and you just gave an enthusiastic salute to the plastic surgeon who was waiting in line for coffee as you mouthed along with the chorus.</p><p>Having finally figured out how to pin down your peonies for optimal dancing movements, you paraded to the elevator with ample shakes and shimmies. Stephen shuffled to your side and pressed the up button before you had the chance.</p><p>“You know, there has been new music created since the turn of the new millennium.” He raised his eyebrows.</p><p>“I’m sorry!” You shouted and pointed to your headphones. “I can’t hear your judgment over the sound of my exquisite taste in music.”</p><p>You increased the volume...Just for the heck of it. </p><p>The doors opened just as the song changed. </p><p>Hopping into the elevator, you pressed the buttons for both your floors. Observing the change in your rhythm and movements—you certainly knew how to roll your hips—Stephen plucked one headphone from your ear. He leaned down and held it next to his.</p><p><em> Superstition </em>by Beck, Bogert &amp; Appice. </p><p>Turning to him, you retrieved the earbud from his hand. But before you returned it to its rightful place, you furrowed your brow.</p><p>“New watch?”</p><p>“Um, yeah.”</p><p>Stephen scratched the back of his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. </p><p>He hadn’t told you about Christine yet. And, based on your question, you clearly hadn’t heard about their abysmal break-up from the hospital’s gossip highway.</p><p>When the doors opened for his floor, he stepped out. But before they could close on your continued display of—oh, for fuck’s sake. You were air drumming now?—Stephen pried the doors open and glared at you. </p><p>“You’re going to go deaf!” he shouted.</p><p>“I know you’re probably being an asshole right now!” You mimicked him talking with your hand. “But I blissfully cannot hear a word you’re saying!”</p><p>“I broke up with Christine.”</p><p>“The damage to my eardrums is totally worth it!”</p><p>“And I think I’m in love with you.”</p><p>“Yeah, I know you love the sound of your own voice. But I don’t. Bye!”</p><p>The doors closed as he leaned back.</p><p>Well, at least he finally got that off his chest.</p><p>The day continued as expected with only a minor complication in the OR. You returned home by 6:48 pm. And your patient—culinary genius in training—had newly constructed bile ducts attached to her liver.</p><p>Yes, you were on a good streak. As you said to yourself that morning before you entered the hospital, it was a good day to have a good day.</p><p>Dancing to <em> Wanted Dead or Alive </em> by Bon Jovi (at least, it was playing in your head), you threw open the fridge in Tony’s—your?—kitchen. Oh, thank God. Your eyes lit up upon spotting a transparent plastic box with a tempting slice of tiramisu inside.</p><p>Glancing over your shoulder, your eyes darted around before you snatched the treat from the fridge; even though it had a sticky note on it that clearly shouted ‘TONY’S—DO NOT EAT!’</p><p>You set the note aside to reveal another…</p><p>‘I MEAN IT.’</p><p>And another…</p><p>‘I’M WATCHING YOU EAT THIS RIGHT NOW!’</p><p>With wide eyes, you glanced all around the kitchen. Did he put security cameras in here? He said he was upgrading the security system this week. Were you really that predictable? But you yanked off that sticky note to reveal Tony’s final message.</p><p>‘MADE YOU LOOK.’</p><p>After a huff, you pried open the lid and grabbed a fork. But before you could begin eating your feelings, a new voice echoed in the kitchen.</p><p>“Mr. Stark purchased that for you earlier today.”</p><p>“AH!” you yelped, dropping the tiramisu on the granite floor. </p><p>Narrowing your eyes, you spun around an entire 360 degrees. But there wasn’t another human in sight. Cautiously, you bent over to retrieve the now spoiled dessert. </p><p>You popped back to your feet and squinted.</p><p>“Tony?”</p><p>Silence.</p><p>You cleared your throat. “God...is that you?”</p><p>“No, I am your conscience,” the voice replied.</p><p>“What the fuck is happening?!”</p><p>Slowly clapping to himself, Tony entered the kitchen with a shit-eating grin across his face. </p><p>“Flawless.”</p><p>“I did not approve of this method of introduction,” JARVIS clarified.</p><p>You gave Tony your most menacing stare. Which, for the record, was absolutely threatening. So so sooooo threatening. Yeah, you were, er, dangerous...and whatnot.</p><p>“Explain yourself!” you squeaked.</p><p>“New security system.” Tony pointed to the ceiling. “Meet JARVIS.”</p><p>“How dare you stuff a man into the ceiling!”</p><p>He stared at you.</p><p>“You...you’re joking, right?”</p><p>“Yes, of course I’m joking!” You grabbed a washrag and cleaned the rest of the tiramisu off the floor. “But Tony...cake.”</p><p>“You have absolutely no interest in learning about how this works or, more importantly, how he can help you.”</p><p>“I wasn’t raised in a technological empire. So honestly, it...no, I mean, he kinda creeps me out. No offense...to either of you.”</p><p>“None taken,” JARVIS replied.</p><p>“See, that’s just…” You cringed. “How much are you listening to me? You know what? Nevermind. I’d rather not know how much of my personal liberty is being infringed upon. Like a true American.”</p><p>Tony sighed. “At least read the safety card I left on your bed.”</p><p>“Ooo! Like the kind they put on airplanes?”</p><p>“Yup. Put it together just for you. Well, actually someone else did the putting together and the folding. But I provided all the content. And, you know.” He pointed to the ceiling. “He helped.”</p><p>“Thank you.” You looked upward. “Thank you!”</p><p>Tony shook his head. “You don’t have to shout. Or look at him. Since he doesn’t actually live in the ceiling. Rather omnipresent.”</p><p>“Again, creepy!”</p><p>With a smirk, he nodded to the fridge.</p><p>“The rest of the tiramisu is in the container labeled ‘Biohazard’.”</p><p>“Yeah, I figured.”</p><p>You hopped on the edge of the island and smiled. Shifting his weight, Tony rubbed the back of his neck and drew in a breath. </p><p>There were only a few moments left of sunlight. </p><p>A few moments left of sunlight and he was going to bed earlier and earlier every damn night. Because, when darkness whittled away at the harshness of the day, Tony welcomed the gentle dip in his mattress as you crawled into bed next to him. </p><p>And by morning, you always woke up to the sun tickling your nose and Clea as the only body accompanying you in his bedroom.</p><p>As you had done every night before since you moved into the tower, you announced your presence in Tony’s room with the clicking of Clea’s nails and the gentle sigh of the mattress. You wrapped your arm around his ribcage and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. They became gentler and gentler as the nights wore on.</p><p>Picking up where you left off last night, Tony guided you on top of him; appreciating the somber breath that exhaled from your lips.</p><p>“And then?” he whispered.</p><p>“Well, they said that at that point, you prob-probably weren’t alive.”</p><p>You pressed a kiss to his cheek.</p><p>“I’m so sorry,” he murmured.</p><p>“We talked about this.” You traced your fingertips along his jawline. “I won’t tell you if you’re just going to feel guilty.”</p><p>“Yeah, okay. I know.”</p><p>He closed his eyes and nodded. With a tenderness he hadn’t felt in decades, you inched your fingers into his hair; massaging his scalp with a healer’s touch.</p><p>“I was...unaccepting.” You held your breath. “Stuck in denial for longer than he was.”</p><p>“Well, in fairness, you were right.”</p><p>“But there wasn’t anything I could do.”</p><p>“I mean, you weren’t...weren’t supposed to rescue me.”</p><p>“There are very few times in my life where I felt helpless. But this was one of the worst.”</p><p>“You are one of the most capable people I know.”</p><p>“It was awful because I had just started growing fond of you.”</p><p>“For that, I am truly sorry for your loss of better sensibilities.”</p><p>“Tony.”</p><p>“Sparkles.”</p><p>You’d ask why he wouldn’t just say your name. But you knew better. You knew that it would be just as good as a love confession. And you weren’t going to put either of you through that; even in the safety of the night.</p><p>“I missed you,” you swallowed. “That was the worst part of all of it.”</p><p>Drawing in a breath, you kissed him with a pained heart. And Tony swallowed his regrets; unwilling to break the weighted contract between the two of you. </p><p>“You still miss him?”</p><p>“Mhmm,” you breathed onto his lips.</p><p>“For that, I am truly sorry.”</p><p>“I am too.”</p><p>As you leaned back in to kiss him, Tony tightened his arms around your waist. You wrapped your hand along the side of his face and sighed.</p><p>“I can’t, I won’t be able to…”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“But you, you’re different than I am. I know this won’t be enough for you.”</p><p>“I’ve done all sex and no…” he gulped, “attachment for a long time. I’m over it. I think it’s time I try something different.”</p><p>“I’m something different?”</p><p>“No. You’re just enough.”</p><p>God, why did he have to...</p><p>With a whine, you rolled off him. Tony was still experimenting with the boundaries of intimacy with you. And apparently, he just crossed a new one.</p><p>But, under the protection of darkness, he didn’t care how many mistakes he made. Unlike the rest, these were always erased by morning.</p><p>“I love you,” he muttered, staring at the blackness of the ceiling.</p><p>“I love you too.”</p><p>“So are you two...when are you going to—”</p><p>“Not tonight, Tony. Please, not tonight.”</p><p>“Got it.”</p><p>Those were the last words he said to you before waking before the sun. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0035"><h2>35. The Douchebag Code</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You woke up one morning in Tony’s bed with absolutely zero appetite. And while it was a curious change in your general state of being, it was also unsurprising. </p><p>Be it stress, frustration, or good ol’ exhaustion, you weren’t hungry in the least bit. And if that was the case, so be it. </p><p>After feeding Clea, you shaved 25 minutes off your morning routine and went straight to the hospital. Seconds, minutes, hours inched by. Everything about the day was completely routine except for the fact that you simply weren’t hungry.</p><p>By 15:00, you checked your watch; alarmed by how swiftly the morning transformed into the afternoon. The only food to pass your lips was a cup of coffee. It was probably time to have some semblance of a meal. </p><p>In the hospital cafeteria, you stared between the chicken or the fish. Chicken or fish. Chicken or fi—</p><p>“If you’re worried about hurting them,” Stephen murmured along your neck, “I think they already saw the worst of it.”</p><p>You let out a soft chuckle and smirked.</p><p>“I need to eat something. I don’t care what. So I don’t know why this is such a difficult decision.”</p><p>“Do you really want to eat seafood from a hospital cafeteria?”</p><p>“Yeah, that’s probably a good call.”</p><p>“I’m full of good ideas. If you ever bothered to listen to me…”</p><p>You turned around and raised your eyebrows. </p><p>“What was that?”</p><p>Stephen looked up at the ceiling and released an exasperated sigh. </p><p>“Why do I even bother?”</p><p>“Because you love a challenge. Or you just want to prove yourself right. It is your favorite hobby after all.”</p><p>You tossed a plate of chicken on your tray and took a few steps to the right. Steamed vegetables? Sure. And something starchy...fries? Probably shouldn’t. But whatever.</p><p>Furrowing your brow at your stubborn shadow, you paid for your food and slumped in a chair. Stephen sat across from you, clasping his hands and resting them on the table.</p><p>“How’s your new living situation?” he asked.</p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>“Safe from any massive spiders?”</p><p>“No incidents so far.” You rolled a piece of broccoli across the plate. “What are you doing here? You hate the cafeteria.”</p><p>“I just...wanted to check in on you.”</p><p>Rolling your eyes, you popped the broccoli into your mouth and shrugged.</p><p>“I haven’t eaten all day. Can you please just…” You gestured for him to hurry it along.</p><p>With a deep breath, Stephen leaned forward and huffed an exhale.</p><p>“Are you and Stark…”</p><p>He shifted his weight. Because fuck if he was setting himself up to get rejected by you. Again...</p><p>You raised your eyebrows, silently demanding him to continue.</p><p>“Are you two…” He cleared his throat. “Sleeping together?”</p><p>“OH MY GOD! Why would you...What is wrong with you?!”</p><p>Growling, you speared a piece of chicken and glared at your plate.</p><p>“Why would you ask me something like that? That’s so...so personal!”</p><p>“So that’s a yes?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“No?”</p><p>“I don’t want to talk about this!”</p><p>Stephen leaned back and raised his eyebrows. Damn, your voice was hitting that pitch that was usually reserved for the dog. He stole a fry from your tray and shrugged.</p><p>“Why haven’t you been eating? You were barely on the OR schedule today. So you weren’t that busy.”</p><p>“Lost my appetite. Gee, I wonder why.”</p><p>“You wish you were blessed with the gift of seeing my face this morning. And yes, it would create a change in appetite. Just not the type you’re referencing. How long has this been going on?”</p><p>“Do you exist purely to torment me?”</p><p>“My, you think highly of yourself.”</p><p>“It’s just been a today thing. But look, I’m eating.” </p><p>With a piece of chicken on your fork, you shoved it into your mouth and glared at him. Stephen furrowed his brow.</p><p>“Are you feeling okay otherwise?”</p><p>“Do I look like a clinic patient to you?”</p><p>“You are being incredibly rude today.” He smirked.</p><p>“I’m sorry. Apparently you just bring out the asshole in me.”</p><p>“No, if you were abiding by the douchebag code, you wouldn’t have bothered apologizing first. You really should work on that.”</p><p>Shoving your tray forward, you folded your arms in front of you and slammed your forehead to your forearms; nearly smooshing an innocent peony in the process.</p><p>“Don’t you have something better to do than antagonize me?” you grumbled. </p><p>“Sure. But this is way more fun.”</p><p>“God, if you’re listening, what did I do to deserve this?”</p><p>“Well, I’d say Tony Stark. But…”</p><p>You shrieked an exasperated huff and glared at him. </p><p>“You are so ANNOYING.”</p><p>“I’m your ex-husband. It’s my job to annoy you. And I take my work very seriously.”</p><p>He sprang to his feet, pecking your cheek before dashing out of the cafeteria. That place was disgusting anyway. But you made it look better. </p><p>Must be the flowers.</p><p>By the time you arrived home, you could confirm that Stephen was right. You should <em> not </em> have dared eat anything from the hospital cafeteria. Not that you would ever give him the satisfaction of knowing your mistake in judgment.</p><p>With your stomach twisting in knots, you collapsed in Tony’s bed. Clea leaped up next to you, indifferent to the effect of sunlight on your sleeping patterns. </p><p>The night before, Tony went out of town to interview for some secret project with an even more secret government organization. It probably had some ridiculous acronym that sounded like more of a joke than an actual agency. </p><p>So now, you didn’t even have him to distract you with bad puns when your stomach was cramping like all hell broke loose on your insides. Stephen always said this would happen if you ate in the dang cafeteria.</p><p>Fish. For fart’s sake! You should have gotten the fish!</p><p>Maybe he wasn’t right about everything. Well, you knew that. Did he?</p><p>“Flarg,” you moaned to yourself. “I cannot be arguing with you in my own dang head!”</p><p>With a groan, you grabbed your phone and texted him.</p><p><em> You choose poorly. That chicken was cursed. </em>🤢</p><p>The reply was nearly instant.</p><p>
  <em> No, YOU choose poorly by voluntarily eating hospital food.</em>
</p><p><em>It's supposed to be SAFE! </em>😩</p><p>You rolled your eyes. Honestly, you should have known better. But you raised your eyebrows at the following text.</p><p>
  <em> Sorry you’re sick. Stark taking care of you okay? </em>
</p><p><em> Oh, fuck you. </em>🖕</p><p>
  <em> Maybe when you don’t have food poisoning. </em>
</p><p>Yeah, you really should have known better.</p><p>But by morning, the curse in your stomach still hadn’t dissipated. And this was exactly the time that you would have told any other rational human being to go to the hospital. Fortunately for you, that’s exactly where you were headed.</p><p>So, technically, you weren’t being too hypocritical. </p><p>With sharp breath, you hobbled onto your floor; turning heads as you shuffled to your office. You collapsed in your chair and groaned. But when you pulled up your calendar on your computer, you furrowed your brow.</p><p>Aw, flarg. You were going to have to get up to ask someone about—</p><p>“Kayla!” you hissed through gritted teeth, waving your hand as much as you could to flag her down.</p><p>“You look terrible.”</p><p>She entered your office and raised a brow.</p><p>“What happened to all my…” You pressed your hand to your stomach and held your breath. “What happened to my morning surgeries?”</p><p>“You called last night and said that you had food poisoning. Asked them to push everything.”</p><p>“What? I never...agh.”</p><p>“Are you sure this is food poisoning?”</p><p>“I’m fiiIIIne.”</p><p>“Can you stand up?”</p><p>“Yup. I’m just choosing not to.”</p><p>“Yeah, c’mon.”</p><p>“C’mon where?”</p><p>“I’m taking you to the ER.”</p><p>“I just need to puke my guts out and I’ll be fi-fine.”</p><p>“You hardly ate yesterday. How’s your lower right side feeling?”</p><p>“FINE.”</p><p>“And your lower left?”</p><p>“Equally as fine.”</p><p>“I can roll you down, drag you down, or you can walk yourself.”</p><p>As you glared at her, Kayla put her hands on her hips.</p><p>“You know it’s only going to get worse. At least once we admit you, you can get some pain meds.” She raised a brow. “Don’t make me page neuro.”</p><p>“For wha-WHAT? My brain is fine.”</p><p>“I’m sure Stephen Strange would like to get a nice look at that inflamed appendix of yours.”</p><p>“Okay, FINE. I’m coming.”</p><p>Grunting, you crawled out of your office chair. With one hand over your stomach, you limped to the elevator with Kayla watching you like a hawk.</p><p>After a painful examination by Christine, you were unofficially diagnosed with appendicitis. Pending your CT, you would be on the OR board...just as a patient today. With an IV stabbing your arm, the meds did you the favor of taking the edge of your horrific cramping. </p><p>This was clearly your appendix getting back at you for all the times you slaughtered its kind. It was utterly ridiculous.</p><p>But your trance was broken when the door to your temporary room slid open and Stephen took a seat across from you.</p><p>“I’m flattered.” He smirked.</p><p>“What are you doing here?”</p><p>“I’m your emergency contact.”</p><p>“Oh shit.” You squeezed your eyes closed.</p><p>“Normally, after you separate from someone, you would choose a new person.”</p><p>“That’s exactly what I did, jackass. I wasn’t going to get mangled in a car accident and have Isaac be the first person to get a phone call. And you practically live here. It was purely a matter of convenience.”</p><p>You narrowed your eyes.</p><p>“Otherwise I would have chosen Tony.”</p><p>“But you didn’t. You chose me.”</p><p>“Doctor Strange, please have mercy on me. I do not have it in me to argue with you today.”</p><p>Just as Stephen opened his mouth, Christine walked into your room. Her eyes flickered between the two of you before she sucked in a breath.</p><p>“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”</p><p>She turned on her heel and walked out.</p><p>You furrowed your brow. “Are you two fighting?”</p><p>“Yeah...about that…” Stephen cleared his throat.</p><p>“What did you do to her?”</p><p>“We...broke up.”</p><p>“No, you didn’t.”</p><p>“This isn’t something you can disagree with me on. We. Broke. Up.”</p><p>“Even you aren’t this stupid. Christine Palmer is a goddess who is not only brilliant, talented, and kind, but also finds your arrogant ass endearing enough to date you for...how long has it been? Almost three years. No, you did not dump her.”</p><p>“Who says she didn’t dump me?”</p><p>“She just did.” You pointed to the door. “The way she just looked at you told me that.”</p><p>“It ran its course.”</p><p>“God, you were a complete fucking jackass weren’t you?”</p><p>“Hey!” he snapped. “Just because you’re exclusively attracted to assholes who treat you like shit does not mean that you have to project your misandry on me.”</p><p>“If I was exclusively attractetd to assholes who treat me like shit, I would be dating you. Christine dodged a fucking bullet.”</p><p>“Fuck. You.”</p><p>Christine leaned against the doorway. “Stephen, it’s time for you to go.”</p><p>“You two really worked together on this one,” he scoffed.</p><p>She tilted her head to the side. “Doctor Strange, I don’t recall asking for a neuro consult for a patient with appendicitus. This hardly seems worth your time. Why don’t you go do a little song and dance for CNN?”</p><p>Grinding his teeth, Stephen rose to his feet and glared at her. </p><p>“If you mess her up…” he spoke lowly.</p><p>“I’m sorry, isn’t that your job? To leave women worse than you found them?”</p><p>“You knew exactly who I was when we started dating. It’s your fault for expecting anything different from me.”</p><p>“Get. Out. Of my ER.”</p><p>“Don’t flatter yourself. It’s just a butcher shop.”</p><p>With the last word in tow, he strutted out of your room. Christine approached your bedside and drew in a breath. </p><p>“I’m going to get you in as soon as I can. I’m sorry you’ve been waiting for so long.”</p><p>“It’s fine. I’ve got what? Three more circles of administrative hell to get through. I’ve only signed one consent form for the pain meds so far.”</p><p>“And there’s the CT.”</p><p>You released a deep exhale, whining at the discomfort. Oh right, your appendix ached like a motherfucker.</p><p>“Christine, I’m so sorry. He’s an asshole.”</p><p>“And an idiot. Or so I’ve heard.”</p><p>“Oh. How much of that did you hear?”</p><p>“Enough.” She smiled. “Let me see how the CT queue looks and I’ll get back to you.”</p><p>One CT and two room transfers later, you were successfully on the operating table. And it was a good thing, because Christine wasn’t sure if your appendix was going to last a moment longer by the time they took the mangled thing out.</p><p>After surgery, you had a post-operative atrial fibrillation. While you couldn’t retain a word she was saying, Christine had to keep you overnight to make sure your heart rate returned to normal. When a room finally became available, she personally wheeled you up as you drifted in and out of sleep.</p><p>You woke up at 2:34. </p><p>At least, according to the giant clock on the wall across from you. Narrowing your eyes, you looked at your heart rate monitor. </p><p>134 bpm. Flarg. That’s why you were here.</p><p>With a hard swallow, you glanced around. But your breath caught in your throat at the sight of Stephen passed out the recliner in the corner of the room.</p><p>“Stephen,” you whispered.</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>You raised your voice just a bit more.</p><p>“Stephen.”</p><p>“Mmm.” </p><p>He grumbled himself awake.</p><p>“How do you feel?” he gulped. “Do you need anything?”</p><p>Just as you opened your mouth to speak, he cut you off.</p><p>“Don’t, don’t worry. I already called Stark and your live-in robot took care of Clea. Automatic feeder and doors or something rather.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“Let me get you some water.”</p><p>He rose to his feet as you started shaking your head.</p><p>“You don’t have to—”</p><p>“Stop.” He paused in the doorway. “I told you, I take my job very seriously.”</p><p>When he returned, Stephen helped you sip on some water. After a generous swallow, you leaned back and sighed.</p><p>“I’m so sorry.”</p><p>“At least you have an excuse. Your appendix was trying to hijack your body.”</p><p>“Will you just let me get through an apology without disagreeing with me?”</p><p>“No. But you can try.”</p><p>“I shouldn’t have said those things to you. That was not kind of me. I’m so sorry.”</p><p>“Me too.”</p><p>“You didn’t have to stay here.”</p><p>“But I’m your emergency contact.”</p><p>“Stephen.”</p><p>“And your friend.”</p><p>You bit your lip and paused.</p><p>“I’m not having sex with Tony.”</p><p>“You don’t have to…”</p><p>“We love each other and I think we’re a little bit in love with each other. But we’re not supposed to be together. At least, I don’t think so. It’s just really confusing.”</p><p>He released a pained exhaled. Relatable.</p><p>“You should sleep.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Your heart rate…”</p><p>“I-I don’t sleep well in new places.”</p><p>After a hard swallow, Stephen pulled up a chair and finally sat down. He withdrew your phone from his pocket and unraveled your headphones.</p><p>“I might have broken into your office.” </p><p>He inserted one earbud into your ear and the other into his. A gentle smile crept across your lips as <em> Every Little Thing She Does is Magic </em> by The Police started playing.</p><p>“That’s a, it’s a good pick.”</p><p>“Well, it’s all your music. So the odds were in my favor.”</p><p>You nodded and gently closed your eyes. And by the time the song ended, you were already asleep again. Stephen gingerly removed the earbud from your ear.</p><p>After a deep breath, he continued to pursue your music library and monitor your heart rate. He finally passed out in that damn chair to the tune of <em> Yesterday </em> by The Beatles…</p><p>...Making a silent promise to himself that he would apologize to Christine. And he would do it well.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I promise I'm going to get to all your comments! I read and appreciate every single one :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0036"><h2>36. If Found, Return to Tony Stark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Your heart returned to normal by the afternoon. And it was good riddance because you were so over—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“TONY!” you snapped, trying to sit upright in your hospital bed. “I am just going to pee. That is something that, even if you </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> help me with, I would not let you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure you’re balanced okay? You look a little wobbly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just had my appendix removed. Not a fucking heart transplant. I can walk to the damn toilet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Standing behind you, Stephen leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Even if you would let someone help you, you should employ the assistance of a trained professional.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If a Boy Scout can walk grandma down the street, I think I can help her get to the bathroom without a medical degree.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tony,” you groaned, dangling your feet over the edge of the bed. “You really didn’t have to rush back here. I’m fine. Just need to relieve my bladder.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Furrowing your brow, you looked between Stephen and Tony’s concerned faces. But, after a deep breath, you bit your lip and nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay?” Tony raised his eyebrows.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I mean...You are two of the most stubborn human beings I know. So I should just surrender and accept help from both of you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stephen cleared his throat. “From the both of—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doctor Strange, be a dear and open the bathroom door for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um, sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rushed to the door and propped it open as Tony helped you on your feet. When you were at the threshold, you blinked firmly and steadied yourself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guys, is the time right on that clock?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As they turned their heads to check, you slipped into the bathroom and pressed your back to the wall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Stephen corrected, examining his watch. “It’s two minutes slow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, you can close the door now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony raised an eyebrow. “And that was all for…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So neither of you would get an unflattering view of my ass. Now move your darn foot so I can pee for fart’s sake!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right,” Stephen grumbled, abiding by your request.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After your discharge, you had to take it easy for a week. No lifting heavy items or standing for long periods of time. It wasn’t ideal; but better than having a ruptured appendix.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Your post-op a-fib significantly increased your risk of heart attack or stroke over the next year. And while you spent almost every waking hour in a literal hospital, Tony wasn’t taking any chances when it came to your health.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” You wrinkled your nose. “I’m not letting you chip me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In his bed, Tony tightened his arms around you and sighed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not a microchip. I just want to monitor your vitals. And you wouldn’t have to worry about having a device to remove when you’re in the OR.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I work in a hospital. If anything happens to me, I’m an elevator’s ride away from the best medical team in the country.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a heart attack and kept operating through it. Until you couldn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You bit your lip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know I’m right,” he hummed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You tapped his chest three times with your palm. Resting one hand under his head, Tony leaned back and grinned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, so this is what it feels like to win one?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t get used to it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t dream of it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll think about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Goddamn. I thought I was getting somewhere.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With the corner of your lip upturning in a soft smile, you crept your fingers along his jawline to guide his lips to yours. Your body sighed upon contact. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Isaac’s love was brittle. It broke under the slightest aches, pains, and pressures. But to you, brittle was normal. Brittle was home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But, as you pulled Tony on top of you, you threaded your fingers through his hair and tasted his love. For a man whose life was anthologized in the public’s eye, his love did not require spotlights or adoration to be felt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yet, part of you waited for it to break.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After all, it always broke.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You pulled away with a gasp. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you, do you want to see my scar?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smirked. “Isn’t that my line?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Biting your lip, you raised the hem of your shirt to reveal your healed surgical site. You reached for the lamp on the nightstand. But Tony grabbed your wrist and shook his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I got this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a hard swallow, he pulled off his shirt; allowing the glow of his arc reactor to illuminate the tender space between you. The ghost of a smile dared to grace his lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That appendix has nothing on you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tony.” You sucked in a breath. “I’m so sorry. I know you’re concerned. And I’m always fighting you whenever you try to do nice things for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s kinda our thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I’m just, I’m a difficult person to love. I know that. And I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony wrestled his shirt back on and laid next to you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That depends on how you define difficult.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I never considered you to be a wordsmith.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Neither did I.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So this microchipping thing...is it going to say ‘if found, return to Tony Stark’?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Again, it’s not a microchip. And don’t be ridiculous. I’ll also include an address and phone number. Maybe a 'please'.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a laugh, you shook your head and curled up next to him. Tony breathed a sigh of relief and asked the question that weighed on his heart; if anything, only to relieve the pressure.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is the longest you two have—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it going to stick?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you still love him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you still love me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, but in a different way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. I just had to check. Make sure your attachment to me wasn’t stuck in the necrotic tissue of that appendix.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, it just held one of my greatest secrets that I can now confess to you…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh oh. This sounds big.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t like Black Sabbath as much as you do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony groaned. “Sparkles, you’re killing me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Laughing to yourself, you tightened your hold on him and closed your eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll see you tomorrow, Tony.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, you will.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He kissed the top of your head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And for the first time since you moved into the tower, you woke up with Tony Stark in his own bed.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0037"><h2>37. The Downright Destruction of New York City</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I never felt so loved in my life.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You grinned and took a sip of coffee in your staff lounge. Kayla raised a brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you got a free cookie with your coffee?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, it had sprinkles.” You tilted your head to the side. “Oh, come on. I know everyone is on edge. But that chaos happened on the other side of the world and we need to retain a sense of normalcy. It’s out of our control and, you know, the little things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still going on your lunch date today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not a lunch date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you haven’t backed out yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because it’s not a date! There’s nothing to back out of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish you would just tell me who you’re meeting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I barely just got on the OR schedule again. It feels negligent to—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as you leaned your head back to groan, your pager interrupted you. You bit your lip and furrowed your brow at the message.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neuro?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, this is my third new pager. I don’t know why I keep getting these pages. He has no idea either. Maybe it’s a software bug?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think that’s the case.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I’ll have Tony take a look when he’s back from saving Europe. I’ll head to neuro and then I’m going. No, you don’t have to follow me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heart racing, you tapped your fingers along your thigh in the elevator. But when you reached the neurology office, your hand didn’t even need to grace the door handle before you ran right into Stephen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oof!” You bounced back from his chest. “You’re leaving?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked firmly and shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, um, just grabbing coffee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you didn’t need me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not again.” Stephen rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It has to be a software issue. Your department is the only one I’m getting these from. And they’re not from Nick either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He held up his finger before spinning around and slamming the door in your face. Placing his palms to Billy’s desk, Stephen leaned forward and raised his eyebrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We talked about this,” he spoke lowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” Billy nodded. “I said I could pick up your coffee for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop. Sending. Pages.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like she said...it must be a software issue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Billy, cut the shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if you don’t ask her out, someone else will. I heard Tom saying—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop. Just stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. I’ll call IT and get ‘the bug’ taken care of.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen swung the door back open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Billy’s taking care of…it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But you were already headed to your not-date lunch date.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grumbling to himself, Stephen retreated to his office and retrieved his mug. He smacked it on Billy’s desk and narrowed his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I resent you for this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly,” Billy sighed, swiping the mug and standing up, “you’ve done worse.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Outside your old—no, Isaac’s—apartment complex, you drew in a breath and nodded. Your heart hammered inside your chest as you ascended the familiar stairs; fingers remembering the sensation of the banister. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With your toes on your doormat—of course he hadn’t gotten rid of it yet—you raised your fist and knocked trice. Isaac opened the door instantly and smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you know I could have picked you up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. I’m sure you’re eager to show off your car. But really, a cab was fine. I don’t have a lot of time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on in. Can I get you anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crossing the threshold, you held your breath and swallowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isaac.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know. You gotta get back. I just, I haven’t seen you in a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, the headliner is that I got appendicitis a bit ago. I’m totally fine now. But other than that, everything is entirely normal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Clea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you really care?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s fine. Very happy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’ve got a good place for the both of you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you just get those forms for me to sign? Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, I don’t have to remove you from our lease.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you’re fine with it. But I’d rather take my name off. Just fewer things floating in the ethers that are my responsibility.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, lemme dig ‘em up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sigh, Isaac retreated to the bedroom and returned with a box of papers. He cleared his throat as he began sifting through them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So...you worried about your boyfriend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who?” You rolled your eyes. “You?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I just figured with Tony being in Germany with the—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s. Not. My boyfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked downward and continued the hunt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure you’ve found your fill of entertainment,” you huffed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I mean, I started driving for Uber now and again. Just for fun. It really freaks people out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t talking about your side hustle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” Isaac looked you straight in the eyes. “I just told you everything and everyone I’ve been filling my time with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged and handed a stack of papers to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that and my therapist. Need a pen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You...you got a therapist?” You accepted the forms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I thought it was time to start doing something different. Y’know, stop doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t, I don’t want to get back together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. This isn’t a ploy. I’m genuinely trying to work on myself. Because apparently, I have a lot to do. Lemme get you that pen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blinking a few times, you watched Isaac as he rushed to the kitchen and scrambled for a pen. He opened one drawer then another and glanced around. But you withdrew a pen from your bag and furrowed your brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, um, I’ve got one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Course you do.” He smirked. “Well, this is it. This is the last thing we have to take care of together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a hard swallow, you gave him a solemn nod. You had signed many, many forms in your life. But this one...felt heavier than the others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You set the small stack on the kitchen island; followed by a click of your pen. But the moment the tip touched paper, you and Isaac snapped your heads upright upon the sounds of explosions and screaming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isaac rushed to the window and yanked open the blinds to see a hoard of Chitauri terrorizing the street below.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus fucking Christ!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You rushed next to him, eyes widening at the chaos. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>People ran for cover as the beasts conducted a symphony of destruction with complete ease. A man scooped up his son—looked about six years old—and bolted full steam ahead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shook your head and ran to the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Isaac raced after you, grabbing your wrist and spinning you around. “Are you insane? You are going to get yourself killed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to get back to my kids!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t be any good to them if you’re dead!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isaac.” You yanked your wrist back from him. “This is an all hands on deck situation. Plenty of people are going to die today. But I might be able to reduce that number if I get back to the fucking hospital!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you see what those things did on the street? They’re going to obliterate you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will never be able to live with myself if I stay here. I’m leaving!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You dashed out the door, heart catching in your throat at the sound of footsteps behind you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I’m coming with,” Isaac announced behind you. “I’m not letting your body be your only defense. You’re down an appendix anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your car is not going to fit through the street.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tossed a helmet to you and nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right. But I’ve got a bike too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the street, Isaac grabbed your hand and rushed you to his motorcycle. He turned on the engine as you hopped on the seat behind him, securing the helmet and wrapping your arms around his waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Safety first, after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When your grip was firm, Isaac tore onto the street. He narrowly avoided colliding with a group of people; hopping onto the sidewalk and back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the cacophony of screams, sirens, and energy blasts, you started mentally charting your to-do list for the moment you arrived at the hospital. But all Isaac could do was mutter that you were going to be okay, going to be okay, going to be okay, as he skidded through the crumbling streets of the city.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You only had 1.4 miles until you were there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All he had to do was keep you safe for 1.4 miles.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0038"><h2>38. Fixtures & Fragments</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Flarg, the air was cold.</p><p>It nipped your shoulders, cheeks, and lips. It seeped through the surface of your body and prickled at the edges of your heart. </p><p>It was damn cold.</p><p>With your breath condensing in a lingering cloud, you rubbed your fingers over your arms and wandered through the hospital.</p><p>The empty hospital. </p><p>Where was everybody?</p><p>And wait. This wasn’t your floor. This was...aw, farts.</p><p>With a sigh, you turned the handle to the neurology office. But, of all the people in the world, this was the last one you expected to see sitting on the couch across from Billy’s desk.</p><p>“Jacob?”</p><p>He looked up from a few scans and shrugged. </p><p>“Do you think I could be a neurosurgeon?”</p><p>“I, uh, I think you could be anything. You have one of the most ingenuitive minds I know.”</p><p>“I think I should.” He tossed the scans on the couch. “I could be better than the guy that killed me.”</p><p>“Jacob.”</p><p>“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot he’s your friend. Mom says my abruptness can be...off putting.”</p><p>“What are you doing here?”</p><p>“How’s my sister? I’m worried about her.”</p><p>“I-I don’t actually know.” You glanced down. “I’m so sorry.”</p><p>“That’s okay. S’not like I can do anything from here.”</p><p>“And where exactly are we?”</p><p>“I think you already know the answer to that.” Jacob brought his feet to the couch and wrapped his arms around his knees. “But don’t worry.”</p><p>He tapped his chest, inspiring you to look at the giant visitor’s badge across yours. You looked back at him with confusion written across your face. But Jacob only shrugged in the face of your infinite unasked questions.</p><p>“I’m supposed to tell you,” he informed, “that you’re not supposed to doubt whether or not you’re going down the right path. Because we’ll never let you go down the wrong one.”</p><p>“We?”</p><p>He gestured to the entire room, as if the single movement would satisfy your curiosity. You shook your head and gulped.</p><p>“And who, who told you to tell me this?”</p><p>“Oh, his sister.” Jacob pointed to Stephen’s office door.</p><p>“Sister?”</p><p>“We’ll talk again soon. At least that’s what she tells me.”</p><p>“Jacob, what is—”</p><p>But before the question could escape your lips, your eyes cracked open to the gentle burn of daylight.</p><p>Breathing. Breath. Your throat. You couldn’t breathe.</p><p>Nick tossed his phone aside just as you started choking on your breathing tube. He leaned over the side of your bed and shook his head.</p><p>“Hey, hey. You’re okay. Don’t fight the intubation.”</p><p>Relaxing your muscles, you looked into his eyes and blinked once in agreement. He began checking your vitals as your eyes darted around the hospital room overflowing with peonies.</p><p>“You were in an accident,” he said. “The entire city was under attack and a few first responders found you just outside the hospital.”</p><p>Right. Alien invasion. Isaac’s bike. He lost control. You got pinned under it. The rest, you couldn’t gather the rest.</p><p>Nick recorded a few numbers in your chart before listening to your lungs. Much to your annoyance, you weren’t getting that tube removed today. He drew in a breath and sat next to you.</p><p>“Crush injuries, a shattered patella, and broken femur. You coded in the OR for three minutes.”</p><p>Your eyes widened. As thoughts raced through your mind, you scratched the sheets with your hand nearest to him. Nick gave you a nod and handed you a pen, holding up a notepad for you. Your hand trembled under the weight of it.</p><p>
  <em> How long? </em>
</p><p>He swallowed. “It’s been a week. We’ve all been taking shifts looking out for you.”</p><p>
  <em> Isaac? </em>
</p><p>“He, um, he’s alive. He’s in surgery right now actually.”</p><p>
  <em> How bad? </em>
</p><p>“He survived the initial accident with minimal injury. But when he was trying to get you out of the crash site, one of those things went flying through the sky and he, um…”</p><p>You tapped the tip of the pen to the notepad for emphasis. Yes, you remembered this. Isaac grabbed a car door to shield the two of you from an energy blast or whatever weapons the extra terrestrials brought. Most of the impact went to—</p><p>“His hands. It’s his hands,” Nick said. “Multiple ligaments torn. Severe nerve damage. He’s in his third surgery this week.” </p><p>He held up his palm. </p><p>“And before you ask, yes, it’s with Strange.”</p><p>Steadying the pen against the paper, you traced the ink across the page; life feeling quite surreal at this point in time.</p><p>
  <em> Everyone ok? </em>
</p><p>“I mean, we couldn’t save everyone. But the hospital astonishingly remained intact. The attack didn’t last long. But there was severe damage to the city. Stark sent a missile through that massive hole in the sky and that was the end of it.”</p><p>Just as your eyes bolted wide open, Nick shook his hand.</p><p>“He’s fine. Completely fine. Been in and out of this room over the past week. Oh, shit. I was supposed to tell you that your dog is fine too.”</p><p>You gave him the closest movement to a nod as possible as tears lined your eyes. Nick leaned forward and gave your hand a squeeze. </p><p>“I’m going to tell everyone that you’re awake. Who do you want as your first visitor? I don’t want you to be overwhelmed.”</p><p>While Nick waited to see you scrawl Stephen’s name across the paper, he was raised his eyebrows to see:</p><p>
  <em> Tony </em>
</p><p>“I’m on it. You’re going to be okay. It’s going to take time for your body to heal. But you’re going to be okay. Ortho was pretty optimistic.”</p><p>As Nick left your room, you bore your eyes into the ceiling. </p><p>The wrong path. The wrong path. The wrong path. How was <em> this </em> not letting you go down the wrong path? </p><p>But you had to shelve your doubts for a later date when Tony stepped into your room. Eyes darting from the fixture around your thigh to your face, he shook his head with a hard swallow.</p><p>“Doctor Sparkles, we’ve gotta stop meeting like this.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Look who's back! Yes, I know it's been forever! Yes, I've had anxiety about it every day since I published my last chapter! Yes, I am kindly requesting that we just don't talk about it because I've wanted to give up writing entirely under the crippling weight of my inner critic the past month! Yes, another chapter is in the works and will be headed your way soon! What does soon mean? I don't know! But the less pressure I feel, the sooner it will come! Okay, carry on.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0039"><h2>39. Coffee. Black. Skip the Drywall.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sitting next to your bed, Isaac tilted his head to the side at the sounds from Tony’s phone. He looked over and cocked an eyebrow.</p><p>“Dude, what are you even doing? Can you turn down the volume?”</p><p>Standing behind Isaac, Billy furrowed his brow. “I think that’s...Galaga?”</p><p>“Yup,” Tony replied without looking up.</p><p>Isaac redirected his focus to you, relieved that his hands were still too damaged to even consider taking yours in his.</p><p>“I’d offer to get some food for you. But…”</p><p>From the corner of the room, Tony groaned.</p><p>“Man, why do you even have to be here?” Isaac snapped.</p><p>“I’m not leaving her alone in the room with you.”</p><p>With the breathing tube still down your throat, you hammered away at the keyboard in front of you; allowing the laptop to speak on your behalf.</p><p>“Tony. He saved my life. You can back off. I’m fine.”</p><p>Tony stared at you in disbelief. </p><p>“Have you seen yourself? You most definitely are not fine.”</p><p>“Oh, like you’re a fucking picture of health?” Isaac glared at him. “We know that you have nightmares. You wake her up at night. Maybe you should head upstairs and check yourself into the psych unit already.”</p><p>“Isaac!” you typed; even though the machine’s voice couldn’t add the particular emphasis you were going for.</p><p>“Right, I-I’m sorry.” He drew in a breath and shook his head.</p><p> “How did your surgery go?” you asked, glancing at Billy who was suddenly preoccupied with the linoleum.</p><p>“They said it was supposed to help with my circulation.” Isaac shrugged. “I have no idea.”</p><p>“Does he think you’ll be able to play again?” </p><p>Your eyes darted to Billy. But the nurse continued to drill his eyes into the floor without a word.</p><p>“I, I have no idea,” Isaac answered.</p><p>“I’m so sorry I did this to you.”</p><p>“Hey, you made the right call,” he whispered. “Apparently our place, I mean, my place exploded about fifteen minutes after we left. We’d be burnt extra crispy if we stayed.”</p><p>“So this was the good outcome?”</p><p>“Yeah, if you can believe it.”</p><p>“God has a sense of humor I don’t understand.”</p><p>“Same.”</p><p>Isaac looked behind him as Billy squeezed his shoulder. He gave him a nod and looked back at you.</p><p>“I have to get back now. But you take it easy, okay?”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>As Billy led Isaac out of your room, your fingers hovered over the keys. But you couldn’t bring yourself to type the question that haunted you since you woke up.</p><p>Tony slid his phone into his back pocket and sprang to his feet. He closed the door and crossed his arms.</p><p>“The guy is bad news, Sparkles. What are you doing?”</p><p>“Are you okay?” you typed.</p><p>“No, don’t turn this back on me.”</p><p>“Tony, I’m worried about you. He shouldn’t have brought up your nightmares like that. But I think you should talk to someone.”</p><p>Tony shook his head. Shit, you could type faster than he expected. He pressed his palms together and pointed his fingers at you. </p><p>“You cannot let history repeat itself.”</p><p>Just as you started typing again, Tony removed the laptop from your tray table.</p><p>“I am so sorry to do this to you,” he said. “But I am begging you. Stay away from him.”</p><p>You curled your fingers inward to ask for your voice back. With a sharp exhale, Tony obliged. </p><p>Eyes darting between him and the screen, curiosity got the better of your pride and you typed away.</p><p>“Has Stephen been by?”</p><p>Pursing his lips, Tony put his hands in his pockets and shook his head.</p><p>“I-I am so sorry.”</p><p>“Is he mad at me?”</p><p>“I don’t know. I haven’t even seen the guy. Your douchenozzle ex only sees him when he’s unconscious in the OR. Not that I blame him for that. Unconscious is the only way I’d prefer to see him too.”</p><p>You tapped your fingers along the tray table and looked down, blinking cursor mocking you. Tony scooted the vacant chair forward and took your hand in his.</p><p>“I love you. You know that, right?”</p><p>You blinked firmly, returning your fingers to the keyboard. </p><p>“Me lobe you long Tim.”</p><p>“Me lobe yoy long time.” He grinned. But the satisfaction faded from his face when you started typing again.</p><p>“Will you consider talking to someone?” You looked at him. “You can talk to me.”</p><p>“I’m not putting that on you. But how about this? I’ll think about getting help if you think about getting space. Deal?”</p><p>You stared at him for a heavy moment. With a sigh, Tony took your palm and raised your knuckles to his lips. </p><p>“I’ll even throw in a set of steak knives. Limited time offer.”</p><p>Using the index finger of your available hand, you typed two letters. It was really the most that he could hope for.</p><p>“OK.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay? <em> Okay? </em> That’s all you have to say?” Billy threw out his hands as Stephen laid on the couch, holding Isaac’s latest scans to the light.</p><p>“What else am I supposed to say? Cafe down the street is giving free coffee to hospital employees. Watch out for the drywall though.” He glanced at Billy. “Sometimes you get a little extra sprinkled in there. They’re still rebuilding.”</p><p>“You don’t want to know anything about her or her condition? Because she wants to know about you. I can see it in her eyes.”</p><p>“Then tell her I’m fine.”</p><p>“Why won’t you go visit her?”</p><p>“Now that I mention it, coffee does sound good. Get me a cup. Black is fine.”</p><p>Years.</p><p>Billy had worked with Stephen for years. He was used to wanting to strangle the man on, at least, a weekly basis. ‘It’s what made them such a great team’ Stephen jested. </p><p>But, even beyond the name of teamwork, for a majority of those years, Billy was the closest person Stephen had to a friend.</p><p>That was, until you came along.</p><p>So maybe it was the trauma of the recent alien invasion. Or maybe it was that one of his favorite people in the hospital wasn’t even strong enough to breathe on her own. </p><p>Or maybe it was because he had agonizingly watched Stephen Strange, his boss, colleague, and friend (don’t tell him he said that last part) accidentally fall in love with you over the years.</p><p>But whatever it was, Billy did something he rarely did.</p><p>He got angry.</p><p>“Get up. And go to ortho. Right now,” he said through gritted teeth.</p><p>“Why? I don’t need them. The work they did on these pins was proficient at best.”</p><p>“Stephen, so help me God, if you don’t get off your ass and get down to that room—”</p><p>“You’ll what?” he scoffed. “Book me in OR 1 next time? I’ll live.”</p><p>“No, I’ll stop escorting <em> your patient </em> on his visitations to his girlfriend.”</p><p>“<em> Ex </em>-girlfriend,” Stephen sighed and set aside the scans. Clearly the office wasn’t going to be quiet again until Billy was satisfied. He turned to sit on the edge of the couch and leaned forward. “The guy has the impulse control of a 2-year-old. I need you to—”</p><p>“Make sure he doesn’t grab any shiny objects and undo all your good work. I know. But he’s not stupid.”</p><p>“Wrong.”</p><p>“He doesn’t need me to escort him wherever he goes.” Billy put his hands on his hips. “I went back to talk to her and I overheard Tony—”</p><p>“Since when are you on a first name basis?”</p><p>“Since the guy practically moved into that goddamn room. And that’s not the point. I heard them talking and I know why you don’t want her alone with him. At least, I can put together enough of the pieces.”</p><p>Stephen’s eyes drifted upward until they met Billy’s.</p><p>“She can talk?”</p><p>“No, she has a computer doing it for her.”</p><p>Stephen stood up and shook out his shoulders.</p><p>“Fine. If you don’t want to go with him, don’t. But if you know the real reason why, you’re the one who’s hurting her. Not me. And I know how fond you are of the resident baker.”</p><p>“For fuck’s sake, Stephen! I’ve known you for years. I can see right through this.”</p><p>“Oh? You can?”</p><p>“No one will care if he can’t play again. They won’t remember you as the guy who ended his career. Will you please stop obsessing over—”</p><p>“You think that’s why I’m doing this? To maintain my reputation? I don’t give a shit about the music he may or may not burden the world with. Or whether or not I can fix him. I detest the man.”</p><p>“Then please, explain it to me.”</p><p>“I’m doing this for her. Because I can’t...I. Can’t. Help. Her. It’s entirely out of my hands. But I can fix him. And that will make her happy.”</p><p>Drawing in a deep inhale, Billy pressed his fingers to his temples and closed his eyes.</p><p>“Stephen, you have one of the most brilliant minds on Earth and yet, you can be so <em> fucking dense </em> sometimes.”</p><p>“What? No. I’m not doing this for me. It’s for her. It’s the only thing I can control.”</p><p>“You’re doing this to ease the discomfort of feeling helpless around her. But guess what? We all feel fucking helpless. It is agonizing to see her this way. But she doesn’t need you to show off your surgical prowess right now. She needs you to be her friend.”</p><p>Stephen glanced to the side and shook his head. He hated when Billy got like this. Because it always meant he did something wrong. Really wrong.</p><p>“I...I don’t know how to do that.”</p><p>“Just get over yourself and go see her already. Or I will get you coffee with drywall in it for the rest of the month.”</p><p>“Are you done?”</p><p>“Yes, that’s all I had to say.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>Stephen scooped up the scan and threw his back to the couch. Billy shook his head and retreated to the door.</p><p>“I’m taking the rest of the day off.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>And the office was quiet once again.</p><p> </p><p>It was quieter in your room now that you were off the ventilator. While you were just getting used to falling asleep with it, you had to reacclimate to the sensation of your body to breathing on its own.</p><p>And trusting it to do so.</p><p>As usual, Tony was asleep in the room’s recliner. Stephen’s breath caught in his throat, as it did every night he came to check on you.</p><p>With the lightest touch, he placed two fingers to the inside of your wrist. Physically feeling your pulse was one of the few comforts he allowed himself these days. </p><p>Especially after his recurring nightmares. Car accident. On the OR table. Turned to dust. It didn’t matter the method. You died in every single one of them.</p><p>But now, he understood. At least, Billy gave him language for the knot in his chest and breathlessness in his lungs any time he woke up in a cold sweat.</p><p>Helpless.</p><p>He felt helpless.</p><p>“Tony,” you whispered, “you know they have machines for that, right? The little stickers above my, y’know.”</p><p>Still holding onto your wrist, Stephen sank into the chair next to your bed.</p><p>“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just mistake me for Stark.”</p><p>Your eyes flickered open.</p><p>“Stephen.”</p><p>“Hi.”</p><p>“Hi.”</p><p>“They, um, removed your…” He gestured to his throat.</p><p>“Yeah, earlier today.” You blinked firmly to clarify your vision. “You, you’re really here? I’m not dead?”</p><p>“You don’t have to be that disappointed to see me.”</p><p>“Are you mad at me?”</p><p>“No.” He looked down and shook his head. “I just, according to Billy, needed to get over myself.”</p><p>“Oh. If it was only your ego in the way, I’m surprised it didn’t take you at least another three months.”</p><p>Stephen smirked. “Well, I can go if you’d like to make it a little more realistic?”</p><p>“No, don’t. I still have to thank you. For operating on Isaac. It couldn’t have been easy under those conditions. And knowing that I was in the room next to you.”</p><p>“I didn’t.” He swallowed. “Know you were in the room next to me.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Christine lied to me. She said one of your kid’s coded and you were upstairs. Safely upstairs. I know why she did it. But I-I thought I was just doing you a favor.”</p><p>“You did. You’re the best chance he has to keep his career.”</p><p>“He can still sing. He can still write.”</p><p>“You know it’s not the same.” You interlaced your fingers with his and gave his hand a squeeze. “Who would you be without your hands?”</p><p>“Well, if I could operate by simply orating, I would. As you say, I do love the sound of my own voice.”</p><p>You rolled your eyes with a smile and sighed, relaxing even more into the pillow. </p><p>“You look exhausted,” you whispered.</p><p>“Are you really one to be criticizing how I look? You look, well, like you got run over by a motorcycle.”</p><p>“At least I can pull off the look. But you need to go home and sleep.”</p><p>“You really want me to go?”</p><p>“Yes. Not because I haven’t missed you. But because you need rest.”</p><p>“How are you still…”</p><p>“Take a cab. Don’t drive. And, you know, if you have time, come visit me again.”</p><p>With a hard swallow, Stephen leaned forward. What he wanted to say, at least some possessed part of him wanted to say, was...<em>I will always have time for you. And when I run out, I will make more. </em></p><p>But what came out was…</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“Goodnight, Doctor Strange.”</p><p>“Goodnight.”</p><p>He released your hand, watching you close your eyes and waiting until you actually fell asleep before abiding by your instructions and going home to rest.</p><p>Finally rest.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope someone got The Office joke lol.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0040"><h2>40. Cracks in the Mirror</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“She looks so well rested.” You tilted your head back, observing footage of Clea on Tony’s phone. “How did she make it out of this the least traumatized of all of us?”</p><p>Tony grinned. “She’s got more good karma points than we do combined.”</p><p>“More than the man who hurdled himself through a wormhole with a missile strapped to his back? That’s impressive.”</p><p>“They say a true hero does things selflessly. But, and don’t tell anyone this, Sparkles…” Tony rested his hand over yours. “I did it...for the shawarma. And, you know, the adoration and accolades and haunting PTSD.”</p><p>You gave him a stern look. “Tony…”</p><p>“Already? How did I mess it up so soon?”</p><p>“No,” you laughed gently. “It’s actually, I wanted to apologize to you. I’m sorry, really sorry for mentioning your nightmares to...you know.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“And I’m sorry that he—”</p><p>“S’fine. I’m already over it.” </p><p>“Tony.”</p><p>“Hey, did they ever find your phone?” </p><p>Raising his eyebrows, Tony slid his phone into his back pocket. </p><p>The question was rhetorical. Well, for him it was. He already knew the answer...considering that your phone was sitting on a table in his workshop with a shattered screen.</p><p>“What?” You furrowed your brow. “No. I never expected them to. I thought I told you I got the new one.”</p><p>“You did. But was there anything important on your old phone?”</p><p>“Um, no. I’ll miss a few dog pictures. But nothing for work. Privacy policies and whatnot. Why?”</p><p>Because he wanted to leave your one remaining voicemail unheard. The one he left when he thought, well, that part wasn't important. What was important was that you didn't have anything important on your phone. Nothing important at all.</p><p>Tony drew in a breath and held it.</p><p>“Just...if it was important to you, I’d make sure you got it.”</p><p>“Pretty sure my phone would make my kneecap look like a walk in the park at this point. So really, of all the things to happen that day, I’m fine with it. I’m just relieved you made it out in one piece.”</p><p>“It is one area that I do have a leg up on you.”</p><p>“Um, rude.”</p><p>“But you love me.” He grinned.</p><p>“Yes, that I do.”</p><p>Tony shifted in his chair and rubbed his palms together. “So did you, um, think about my proposal?” </p><p>“I don’t know. Did you?”</p><p>“How old are you? Five?” he scoffed. “And I’m not telling. I asked you first.”</p><p>“Oh my God. How have we ever managed to have a productive conversation with each other?”</p><p>“I use sarcasm to deflect and you hyperfixate on other people’s problems to avoid your own. We just get stuck in an endless loop of avoidance. So honestly, I have no idea. And I’m the smartest person you know.”</p><p>You rolled your eyes. “I think some people would disagree with you.”</p><p>“Ha, like Keebler has anything on me.”</p><p>“I said they would disagree with you. I didn’t say they’d be right.”</p><p>Tony leaned forward and raised a brow.</p><p>“You know I was legitimately asking you. Have you thought about what we talked about?”</p><p>After a hard swallow, you released a slow exhale.  </p><p>Of course you thought about it. You had nothing else to do than think. And you committed to never bringing up Isaac in conversation with Tony. It seemed easier that way...easier for everyone.</p><p>You wouldn’t tell Tony that Isaac was discharged. That he was in rehab. And that you already caught him in a lie.</p><p>“How’s it going?” you asked Isaac a few days ago.</p><p>“Oh, you know. Living the dream. S’all good.”</p><p>“Isaac.” You narrowed your eyes as he avoided your gaze. “You’re lying to me.”</p><p>“What? No. Why would I...I promise everything is going great.”</p><p>“I have known you long enough to know when you’re lying to me. I got really used to it.”</p><p>Oops. That came out harsher than you meant.</p><p>“I just…” Isaac looked at his shaking hands and back to you. “No, I’m not doing great. I’m not even doing okay. I-I’m not getting any better.”</p><p>“Oh, Isaac.” The contempt melted from your face.</p><p>“And I hate PT. Hate it so much. But I didn’t want to say anything because I know you’re going to be in that same boat soon and I...You’re always so positive. About everything. Even the worst shit. I just didn’t want to bring you down.”</p><p>“No, no. I...I actually completely get it.”</p><p>“You do?” His eyes reconnected with yours.</p><p>“Yeah, I mean...this sucks. More than sucks. This fucking blows.”</p><p>“Oh thank God,” he heaved a sigh. “I thought...I thought I was going crazy.”</p><p>“No, trust me. I’m having a hard time with this too. I’m really trying not to focus on it. But it’s...well, it’s terrifying.”</p><p>“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear you say that. I mean, I hate that you’re in this situation. But fuck. I’m, well, I’m relieved. Because it’s nice to talk to someone who gets it.”</p><p>You shook your head with a gentle sigh.</p><p>“I do. I really do get it. Our bodies are going to be permanently affected by this. How badly? How long? I have no idea. And I’m used to being on the other side of this. I am, for lack of better words, totally freaking the fuck out.”</p><p>“Me too!” His fingers quivered as he gestured to himself. “And you know what your neuro guy said to me when I asked him about recovery time?”</p><p>“He’s not <em> my </em> neuro guy. And how did you actually get to talk to him?”</p><p>“I bugged the shit out of his assistant.”</p><p>“Oh, great.” You rolled your eyes. “What did he say?”</p><p>Isaac gave his best impression of air quotes. “‘It’s not an exact science’. Isn’t that literally what you do? You are scientists.”</p><p>With bewilderment shining through your eyes, your body reacted in a way Isaac hadn’t seen in ages. </p><p>You laughed. </p><p>You couldn’t help but laugh. A true, bright laugh that filled the room with lightness. And how he missed the sound of it. The both of you.</p><p>“He just said that to piss you off,” you snorted.</p><p>“I know! It makes it even worse.”</p><p>You extended your palm, permitting him to tentatively place his fingers over yours.</p><p>“I’m so sorry this has been so hard for you,” you said. “But thank you. Thank you again for saving my life.”</p><p>“You don’t have to keep—”</p><p>“I know. The words, they aren’t enough. But I’m really grateful you could be honest with me. Because it’s been hard for me too. And it’s nice to talk about it with someone who doesn’t look at me like I’m going to break at any moment.”</p><p>“I mean…” He glanced at your leg encaged in its fixture.</p><p>“Isaac, that’s just it. I’m already broken.”</p><p>“Babe...Don't say that...”</p><p>“But I’m getting better! Maybe not every day. But every week. And that’s going to turn into every month. And so on...” </p><p>You brushed your thumb over the back of his hand, familiarizing your touch with the scarred terrain. </p><p>“There’s another side to this,” you reassured. “I know it. And we’re going to be okay. We’re both going to be okay.”</p><p>“There’s that optimism.”</p><p>“It’s not optimism. It’s faith. And I’ll keep enough for the both of us.”</p><p>With the gentlest of smirks tugging at the corner of his lip, Isaac smirked.</p><p>“I never deserved you.”</p><p>“No, you never did,” you laughed. “But it’s because your beard looks so terrible.”</p><p>“It’s getting that bad, isn’t it?”</p><p>“I can help you shave? If you’d like. Give me something to do other than stare at the ceiling and try to bully the poor nurses into telling me how things are on my floor.”</p><p>“You? Bullying nurses?”</p><p>“Oh I’m terrible at it. I keep apologizing. Doesn’t get me very far. But I try. I should probably give up in search of a higher calling. Like getting that mess off your face.”</p><p>Isaac looked down and shook his head. “Okay, deal. But only to save the nursing staff from your overly apologetic tendencies.”</p><p>“Then it’s a date.”</p><p>You watched him as he drilled his eyes into the floor.</p><p>“And, um, Tony?” he asked.</p><p>“I know things have been tense between you two since that party. But I can keep you separate. Church and state.”</p><p>“Do I want to know which one I am?”</p><p>You raised your eyebrows. “With your opinions on the government and God? Probably not.”</p><p>“Okay, well, I’ll be back tomorrow. Same time?”</p><p>“Same time. And...hopefully I’ll get a new phone soon. I don’t know why it’s taken me so long. Not like I have anything else to do. I just...kinda feel weird having stuff delivered to my hospital room.”</p><p>“Order it. I’ll pick it up for you.”</p><p>“You will?”</p><p>“Yeah, of course.” He shrugged. “Give me the info tomorrow and I’ll get it. We’re each, like, half a functioning person. So together, we could get a basic errand done. Fuck, I hope so.”</p><p>But you dismissed his jesting, favoring to speak from the heart.</p><p>“Thank you, Isaac. Thank you.”</p><p>“Anything. I hope you’re happy. Eventually. I meant every word. Even if it’s the last thing I ever play.”</p><p>“It won’t be.”</p><p>“There’s that optimism.” He smirked. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”</p><p>And that day melted into tomorrow. And tomorrow into the next. And now you were...here. Trapped in a room that felt no time.</p><p>“Sparkles?” Tony interrupted your thoughts, bringing you back to the present. “You okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, um, living the dream.”</p><p>“So you have been seeing him?”</p><p>“Tony...I-I don’t want to lie to you.”</p><p>“I don’t want you to either. You’re really bad at it.”</p><p>You took a deep breath. </p><p>“It’s just friendly. I promise. It’s just, it’s so hard. Everyone is trying so hard to fix me and he just gets it. I don’t have to—”</p><p>“No, I get it.” His tone was terse. “You two are soulmates. Meant to be. Fate keeps throwing you together.”</p><p>“Hey. It’s not like that.” </p><p>But the muscles in his face hardened in a way you’d never seen before.</p><p>“When are you going to learn?” he snipped. “When you are going to realize that you can’t trust the guy as far as you could throw him?”</p><p>“Tony.”</p><p>“How many times are you going to let him break you? Because I can’t keep picking up the pieces.”</p><p>“I-I never asked you to.”</p><p>“And that’s just it.” He shoved out his chair to stand up, voice rising. “You never ask for help. You never fucking help yourself until it’s too goddamn late and you have literally no other option than for us to step in because you are so fucking fargone.”</p><p>“Us? Who exactly are you conspiring with?”</p><p>“You are too smart for this. When are you going to wake up?”</p><p>Church and State. Church and State. You should have just stuck with separation of Church and State.</p><p>“Is this really what you think of me?”</p><p>“I don’t even know anymore. I...” Tony dragged his hand down his face. “I need some air.”</p><p>He stomped out upon your silence.</p><p>As you picked as an innocuous thread on your sheets, you drew in a deep breath. </p><p>Tony would never lie to you. No, he would never lie to you. The lying was always reserved for...well, someone else. </p><p>Someone else who etched lies into the glass of your trust until they cracked and splintered into a shattered web; disfiguring your reflection in the surface to the point you could no longer recognize yourself.</p><p>So, no. Tony would never lie to you.</p><p>But with the contempt in his voice still carved into your mind, you almost wished he had.</p><p>Almost.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I don't know why I'm going to tell you this. But maybe so it will help other writers? Idk. </p><p>So, I had an epiphany recently that one of the reasons I get so anxious about posting new chapters (and why my publishing pace has slowed down) is that with every new chapter, at least one person across one of my platforms points out <i>something</i> they didn't like about it. It's totally fine. Everyone is entitled to their opinion. </p><p>But I started hearing these voices in my head pointing out all the things that people wouldn't like about what I've created -- too much Tony, not enough Stephen, make you feel feels you don't like, why is she still w Isaac (read about c-ptsd for the explanation for that one) etc. etc. -- and so I just got paralyzed and stopped writing altogether.</p><p>I've finally reached a point where I'm just trying to be fine pissing some people off because I won't be able to please everybody. I started writing because stories live inside me and they've asked to be told. I always say I don't write stories. They tell me what to write. My preference usually has very little to do with what makes it onto the page.</p><p>So I'm sorry this was another Tony-centric chapter. I genuinely didn't plan on having him in this fic -- let alone so much of him (as my Tumblr peeps know, I honestly detest his canon character). But here we are and I trust that it's all for a reason in the long run.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0041"><h2>41. Ray of Fucking Sunshine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“There.” You handed a slip of paper to Billy. “That is the brand of flour I use. But that’s not why they’re collapsing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nibbled on the edge of your cupcake, tiny crater in the middle amply buried under frosting and embarrassment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought maybe it was an issue with the density?” Billy cocked an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, how often are you opening your oven?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holding his breath, his eyes darted around your hospital room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, not too much. But also not too little. Er, what’s the right answer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The honest one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I shouldn’t open it, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It just lowers the temperature too much if you do it too often. Try to only open the oven if you’re checking if they’re done. But otherwise, they’re really good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Billy shook his fists in exaltation. Basking in his triumph, you smiled and took another bite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I can finally stand, we should having a baking party.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my God, we should. How have we not done this yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Between the 80 hour work weeks, sleep deprivation, and the stick up your boss’ ass, I have no idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s good to see you back.” Billy grinned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Back? I barely managed to hobble to that chair this morning.” You pointed across the room. “I’d hardly say that I’m back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, the...your…” He pointed to the peony crown upon your head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, this?” You couldn’t help but feel a smile tug at the corners of your lips. “Isaac brought it to me. Said he contacted my florist and had something special arranged. The colors are beautiful, aren’t they?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wear them well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, um, I don’t know about that...But thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rubbing the ball of his foot into the linoleum, Billy glanced down and clasped his hands behind his back. You tilted your head to the side and narrowed your eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Billy...what is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you talked to him?” He stared downward. “About surgery.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’ve barely seen Doctor Strange. I’d say I know better than to try to bully him into a surgery he doesn’t want to do. But then again…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not Stephen. Isaac.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, um…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The honest answer? Yes, you had. Of course you had. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And you told Isaac that Doctor Stephen Strange, MD, PhD was the best there was. If he said nothing could be done, there was nothing to be done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To which, Isaac asked you if your opinion was biased because you were “obsessed with the guy”. Barf. No one could be more obsessed with him than the man himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, we haven’t really talked about it.” You swallowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, he might listen to you. We’re past the point of surgical solutions. He will bankrupt himself trying. Stephen won’t touch him. And honestly, I think you’d be hard pressed to find a surgeon who will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. I, uh, I’ll talk to him.” You pursed your lips and nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just a thought.” Billy rubbed his hands together. “Enjoy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he nodded to your half-eaten cupcake, your eyes darted to the navy fleece at the foot of your bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Billy! Your jacket.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, only receiving silence in return, you pulled out your laptop and began your afternoon tradition of rotting your brain with trash TV.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not wasting my time with this garbage.” Stephen tossed the case files on Billy’s desk. “A thousand other people could take care of these. And why is it so fucking cold in here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Billy wrapped his arms around himself and shrugged. “I, uh, I thought you asked me to turn up the AC.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen stared at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah, yes. The look. Billy knew this look. It was the look Stephen gave him when he sucked all the oxygen from the room because he was the only one with a functioning brain that actually needed it. It was also the look that made Billy certain he was not getting paid enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I adjust the temperature, will you do me a favor?” Billy pleaded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen’s eyes widened in frustration. Yup, Billy was sure of it now. He was not getting paid enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just, er, I left my jacket when I went to visit…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I miiight have a case for you. Musical conductor who contracted herpes simplex encephalitis. Can’t form new memories for more than 30 seconds. Complete amnesia. Except.” Billy raises a freezing cold finger. “He can still remember music and his wife.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You exist purely to torment me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I also like to think my existence revolves entirely around you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen’s mouth hung open for a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was your doing, surely. Billy needed to spend less time with you. The entire ecosystem Stephen had carefully crafted over decades was crashing down over a smile that warmed the hearts of everyone in the goddamn room and a half-decent cherry danish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, more than half-decent. But he’d never tell you that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drawing in a breath, Stephen clenched his jaw and glared at Billy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will get you your jacket. You get me that case file. And it would be great if you could, you know, do your damn job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure thing, boss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen stomped out of the office suite. The image of Billy’s pleased face was seared in his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Goddamn you. Billy always got like this after spending time with you. Happy. And when he was happy he remembered that he didn’t actually have to listen to him. Fucking bullshit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strutting right into your room, Stephen grabbed the fleece from the foot of your bed and shoved it in your direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is your goddamn fault,” he snipped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, hi to you too.” You finished a spoonful of soup, TV still playing on your laptop. “Aren’t you a walking ray of fucking sunshine today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, that’s your song and dance. You have to make everyone feel so good about themselves. It. Is. Exhausting.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” You raised a brow in amusement. “I’m sorry that I don’t have the people skills to make everyone want to drown themselves self loathing and feelings of inadequacy. That job was already taken by the time I got here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least I...what...what the fuck are you even watching?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“General Hospital.” You grinned. “I finally made it out of the sixties.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen dragged his hand down his face, exasperated groan speaking for his thoughts on the matter. You gestured to the screen with your soup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come now, Doctor Strange. Pull up a chair and watch with me,” you mocked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How is it that you are immobile and you still manage to make me miserable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. I was in the gifted and talented program as a child. Gave me crippling anxiety and perfectionism. But now it’s all worth it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You. Are. A. Menace.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He spun around stomped to the door. But you paused the TV and cleared your throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor Strange.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” He threw out his hands; agitation crudely carved across his features.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like to have dinner with me tonight? I can’t go anywhere. So you know I’ll be here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. Don’t be stupid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stormed into the hallway, taking his cloud of thunder with him. If only he saw the single ray of sunshine peeking through.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0042"><h2>42. Masterpiece</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He had tacos. He had dumplings. He had pasta. And, well, every food he’d ever seen you eat. All Stephen was missing...was you.</p><p>With bags of food in hand, he cracked the door open to your room. But instead of being met by a sarcastic remark or a smile that melts every heart in the room, you were…</p><p>Asleep.</p><p>You were fucking asleep. Fucking asleep and muttering something indistinguishable under your breath. He really shouldn’t have expected anything different. But he did. At least, he hoped.</p><p>Setting the bags next to your bed, Stephen scraped the chair against the linoleum before sitting down. You jolted awake and looked at him with, what he determined to be, a mixture of disgust and horror.</p><p>“It’s nice to see you too,” he deadpanned. “You know, I can give you more time if you need your beauty rest.”</p><p>“Oh, fuck off. There is nothing for me to do other than watch TV and sleep. And sleeping is the fastest way I can pass the time. I didn’t forget about you.”</p><p>“What were you dreaming about?”</p><p>You scowled. “None of your business.”</p><p>“It was about me.”</p><p>“No, it was not.”</p><p>“Yes, it was.”</p><p>“God, you are so full of yourself. You think even my subconscious is committed to making <em> you </em> the center of the universe.”</p><p>“It was about me,” he snickered. “The corner of your mouth was doing that thing when you’re really annoyed at me.”</p><p>“Was not! You narcissistic jackass!”</p><p>“Yeah, that thing.”</p><p>You rolled your eyes. “Do you have food? Or should I go back to enjoying the silence?”</p><p>“It was about me.” Stephen grinned, unloading takeout container after takeout container onto your tray table. </p><p>“Fucking hell. That’s a lot of food.”</p><p>“Your time away from your department has truly changed you. And, you know, I didn’t know what you liked. So I got a few options.”</p><p>“Mhmm.” You grabbed a fork and eyed him. “So what sorry state are you in to share a meal with me? Have any interesting cases?”</p><p>“Nope.”</p><p>“So I’m just a last resort because you have nothing better to do?”</p><p>“Yup.” He plucked a dumpling from a container with a pair of chopsticks.</p><p>“Thank fucking God.”</p><p>You nabbed a taco and took a bite, leaning back and staring at the wall.</p><p>And that’s when Stephen saw it. The same look from that night—the night he told Christine he loved her—when he knew you were fucking miserable.</p><p>It made sense. You were incapacitated, away from your kids. You had resorted to watching General Hospital for entertainment for fuck’s sake. </p><p>But in the stress of making sure you even survived your accident in the first place, Stephen hadn’t considered your mental...or emotional...wellbeing.</p><p>Or maybe he didn’t want to.</p><p>There were questions he was supposed to ask. All questions he didn’t want answers to.</p><p>“They’re replacing me,” you grumbled before another bite of taco.</p><p>“They’re not replacing you.”</p><p>“Oh? So you heard.”</p><p>“Yes, and I know they are not replacing you. You’re just being dramatic. Spending too much time watching soap operas.”</p><p>“Well, someone is coming in to do my job. That sounds like replacing me to me.”</p><p>“Because you can’t do your job.”</p><p>“What an observation.” You raised a brow, stealing the dumpling he was reaching for.  </p><p>“And here I didn’t think you could get any more annoying,” he grumbled.</p><p>“What can I say? I live to exceed expectations. Including yours.” </p><p>“Especially,” Stephen muttered under his breath as you popped the dumpling in your mouth.</p><p>“What are you giving me shit for? I don’t remember you having any sense of volume control. Especially when it came to your opinions about people.”</p><p>Furrowing his brow, Stephen glanced around your room.</p><p>“What happened to all your flowers?”</p><p>“Uh, they died.”</p><p>“Not the…” He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. “Why don’t you have new ones? I would have thought Stark—”</p><p>“Tony isn’t speaking to me.” You avoided his gaze, occupying yourself with a particularly slippery noodle. “I didn’t know you could handle spicy food so well.”</p><p>“Of course I ca—What? He’s not speaking to you?”</p><p>“You just seem so….”</p><p>Stephen gave you a deadpan expression. “White?”</p><p>“You said it.”</p><p>“What happened?” he pressed.</p><p>“Well...I just saw you down that chili oil like—”</p><p>“With. Tony.”</p><p>“Why do you care?”</p><p>“Why do you assume that I don’t?”</p><p>“Isn’t it obvious?” You narrowed your eyes. “Because it has nothing to do with you.”</p><p>“Of course I fucking care. This is clearly affecting you. What happened?”</p><p>But Stephen’s jaw ticked as you only stared at him in reply. He drew in a breath and shook his head.</p><p>“What is it?” he snapped. “Why do you assume that I don’t care? That you can’t talk to me? Because I’m a judgmental dick as you so frequently remind me? If I didn’t care about you, I wouldn’t even acknowledge your existence.”</p><p>Aw, fuck. </p><p>He was certain you would give him a mouthful for that one. <em> He’s such an asshole. It wouldn’t kill him to ask people how their day was. </em>Not that you knew that for certain. He hadn’t tried it yet. </p><p>But, shit. Getting yelled at by you would be better than this...this <em> small talk. </em> Fuck, he’d bring the talking stick to your room if it meant you would talk to him. </p><p>Really talk to him.</p><p>But the lesson Stephen couldn’t stop learning from you was that he didn’t always get what he wanted. And instead of snapping back at him, you swallowed the growing lump in your throat before looking down and…</p><p>Bursting into tears.</p><p>Fucking hell. You were crying. No, you were uncontrollably sobbing. And he did this to you. He fucking did this to you and he had absolutely no clue how to fix it.</p><p>The only person who would know was sitting in front of him and rapidly descending into a snot-nosed, blubbering mess. And he shouldn’t ask you what he was supposed to do. Not now. That would be inappropriate. That...would be inappropriate, right? Yes. Inappropriate.</p><p>“Uhhh…”</p><p>“I’m sorry!” You buried your face in your hands. “I’m just, I’m having a really hard time and it’s just all hitting me now.”</p><p>“It’s, um, all going to be okay?”</p><p>“No, my life has completely ripped itself to shreds, threw itself into a dumpster, and set itself on fire!”</p><p>“Uh, yeah. You’re right. Your life is a disaster.”</p><p>“Who SAYS SOMETHING LIKE THAT?!”</p><p>“I’m sorry! I thought I was supposed to agree with you.”</p><p>“You...what….how…” You scrunched your face. “Get me that fucking box of tissues.”</p><p>Oh, thank fuck. That he could do.</p><p>As you blew your nose, Stephen adjusted in his chair. He clasped his hands together and leaned forward. But before he could gain control of his motor functions, his breath hitched as he felt friction across the sides of his fingers.</p><p>Yes, they were untangling from each other as he extended one hand towards yours. Which, to his surprise, you yanked toward you like a lifeline.</p><p>After dabbing your eyes, you set the tissues aside and looked at him with grave remorse. </p><p>“I’m really sorry. I’m...a bit of a mess right now.”</p><p>Stephen’s eyes darted around the room before returning to your face. It was probably safer if he just didn’t say...anything? Silence was better than saying the wrong thing, yes?</p><p>“I, um…” You swallowed. “I’m not dealing with this well.”</p><p>“You’re not dealing with it at all.”</p><p>You slumped back in your bed and glared at him. But even as your fingers relaxed around his, you didn’t let go.</p><p>“There’s something wrong with me,” you sighed. “I can feel it.”</p><p>“You can’t even get out of bed yourself. Of course something is wrong.”</p><p>“No, I...I don’t think things are healing properly.”</p><p>“They said you should make a full recovery.”</p><p>“Stephen.” You locked your gaze with his. “Something is wrong.”</p><p>“You can’t possibly know that at this point. And you of all people know the importance of the mind-body connection in recovery. Since when do you talk like this?”</p><p>“Since my leg was desecrated because of an alien invasion and my best friend is spiraling into the worst self destructive cycle I’ve ever seen and he won’t talk to me.”</p><p>Clenching your teeth, you shook your head and bore your eyes forward.</p><p>“I should have just stayed here. If I had just stayed here…”</p><p>“Isaac would be dead.”</p><p>“What?” You looked over, furrowing your brow.</p><p>“You thank him for saving your life.” Stephen raised his eyebrows. “But if you hadn’t gone to meet him and insisted you come back here...he would have been in that building when the gas line exploded.”</p><p>As you took a slow, deep exhale, your muscles relaxed. He could feel it through your hand. After a hard swallow, you narrowed your eyes at him.</p><p>“You don’t believe in any of that fate nonsense?”</p><p>Laugh. He was not supposed to laugh at this question. A part of him knew that. And yet…</p><p>“It’s fine.” You rolled your eyes. “Dumb question.”</p><p>“Eh, at least you said it.”</p><p>“It just feels weird to me. That the last exchange that was supposed to separate us for good actually threw us back together.”</p><p>“Or you could call it really terrible luck.”</p><p>You looked down and laughed gently, brushing your thumb over the back of his hand. And he absorbed your touch with all he could. </p><p>Although the moment was short lived. Your hand magnetized to the side of your face when Isaac peered through your doorway.</p><p>“Just came to see if you were eating anything other than hospital food.” He shrugged. “But I guess that’s being taken care of.”</p><p>You shook your head with a few remaining sniffles. “Oh, yeah. Just catching up with—”</p><p>“Doctor Strange.” Isaac grinned. </p><p>And Stephen knew. He fucking knew that when Isaac said his name, he was really saying (<em> Oh, look. It’s this overrated hack </em> ) <em> . </em></p><p>“Bolton,” Stephen stated plainly.<br/>(Read: <em> You abusive fucking jackass. </em>)</p><p>“Have you been watching commercials with dogs again?” </p><p>Isaac smiled at you, lightness fading when he redirected his gaze to Stephen. </p><p>“You know those make her cry, man. She just can’t contain herself.”<br/>( <em> You don’t know shit about her and I was with her for over ten years. Back the fuck off. </em>)</p><p>“No. We were just talking. Part of the healing process and all.”<br/>( <em> You have a fucking high school education, you moron. At least I have an MD, PhD, and a career. </em>)</p><p>“Oh. He treating you okay?”<br/>( <em> Because I’ve seen firsthand what happens to people who are under his care. The little he has to give. </em>)</p><p>“She asked me to be here.”<br/>( <em> Unlike you. And yet you just keep coming back. </em>)</p><p>You narrowed your eyes and glanced between them.</p><p>“Yeah, Isaac. I’m fine. We were just talking about the interview process for my replacement.”</p><p>“Yes, we were.” Stephen grinned.<br/>( <em> She doesn’t feel the need to lie to me. </em>)</p><p>Isaac nodded slowly. “Good.”<br/>( <em> Go fuck yourself. </em>)</p><p>“But we can do dinner tomorrow night?” you asked. “I want to hear how PT is going for you.”</p><p>“I’m glad you do.” Isaac smiled, kissing you on the cheek. “I’ll pick something up. I know what you like.”</p><p>He gave you a wink before strutting into the hallway; not without giving Stephen a generous dose of side eye in the process.</p><p>Stephen snapped his gaze back to you. Fuck, was he ready to tell you exactly what as on his mi—</p><p>“Are you going to stop talking to me too?” you asked.</p><p>“Wha-what?”</p><p>“Well, you clearly hate him. That’s why Tony...We can’t have a single conversation without ending up at the same place.”</p><p>“I did everything I could to help him.”</p><p>“I know you did. Your ego wouldn’t let you perform subpar surgery. No matter how much you despised the guy on the table.”</p><p>Stephen looked down. No, this wasn’t about, well, this wasn’t about him. He wanted you to know for your own peace of mind. God knows you weren’t getting much of it these days.</p><p>“I won’t watch General Hospital with you,” he said.</p><p>“Didn’t expect you to.”</p><p>“But we can work our way through Tarantino.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“<em> Reservoir Dogs. </em> Night after tomorrow. Since you’re...occupied then.”</p><p>“Don’t you have better things to do?”</p><p>“No, I already told you. You’re my last resort for any semblance of decent entertainment around here. And...” He drew in a breath. “If you need to cry over a dog commercial or two…”</p><p>“Oh my God.” You buried your face in your hands.</p><p>“Do you cry at the ones where the families end up together all...happy?”</p><p>“Only if they’re written really well!”</p><p>Stephen dragged his hand down his face. “You are a piece of work.”</p><p>“And I’m sure you laugh at movies with great tragedy in them.”</p><p>“Like what?” he scoffed.</p><p>“<em> Seven Pounds </em>.”</p><p>“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Medically speaking, death by box jellyfish—”</p><p>“You are a piece of work, Doctor Strange.”</p><p>Stephen smirked. Because when he said that, he wasn’t sure what kind of work you were. He couldn’t find the right word for it. But ‘masterpiece’ would have to do for now.</p><p>Yes, for now.</p><p>You were a piece of work.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0043"><h2>43. The Bearable Emptiness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>“In all our searching, the only thing we've found that makes the emptiness bearable, is each other.” —Carl Sagan</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stephen Strange was not unaccustomed to wandering around an empty alien spaceship. Not in his non-waking hours, at least.</p><p>Yes, it was this dream again. </p><p>As it always manifested, he was barefoot, in scrubs, and desperately trying to find a way off this damn labyrinth. The typical feeling of dread continued to burrow its way deeper and deeper into his stomach.</p><p>When it came to this dream, there were three things that happened no matter what:</p><ol>
<li>He knew he needed to escape or something terrible would happen.</li>
<li>At some point, he realized this was a dream. But even then, he refused to risk failure. Call it anxiety...or something.</li>
<li>He failed.</li>
</ol><p>Every. Single. Time.</p><p>Stephen never found out what the terrible, impending sense of doom meant. He always woke before it arrived. But in that liminal space just out of sleep, he knew that he had failed.</p><p>Because he ran out of time.</p><p>“It is so depressing in here,” a voice called out.</p><p>Stephen flinched in the hallway, whipping his head around to see you examining the darkness that overcast the walls. You narrowed your eyes and adjusted the pastel pink peonies upon your head. </p><p>He looked you up and down. Yes, you were also in scrubs. But...what the fuck? How did you get shoes?</p><p>“What are you doing here?” he stammered.</p><p>“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>“You’re not supposed to...I have to...we need to get out of here!”</p><p>You rolled your eyes. “You’re telling me. This place is—”</p><p>He cut off your sarcasm by grabbing your wrist and dashing down the hallway. </p><p>“Whoa!” You steadied the flowers on your head and tried your damndest to keep up with his gait.</p><p>Pulling you into a corridor, Stephen rested his hands on your shoulders. He studied your face in an attempt to understand, to understand, to under—</p><p>Yes. This was a dream. A dream he had on numerous occasions but could never escape. But why were you here?</p><p>“It’s not safe here.” He shook his head. “You need to leave.”</p><p>“Kinda don’t have anywhere else to go. And there’s no one here. I think we’re fine. How often do you get to check out the inside of a spaceship? Pretty cool, huh?”</p><p>“No! Not cool! Dangerous! You are in danger. I need to get you out of here.”</p><p>He peered into the hallway. But you tugged at his arm to regain his attention.</p><p>“What are you running from?”</p><p>“I don’t know.”</p><p>“Then how do you know there’s something to run from?”</p><p>“Because I just do.”</p><p>“I’ve had 5-year-old patients who can come up with a better argument than that one.”</p><p>“Will you just shut up so I can think!”</p><p>“Alright, alright.”</p><p>You leaned your back against the wall, tapping your fingertips together in anticipation. Stephen closed his eyes to recollect himself. But his process was interrupted when—</p><p>“So were you surprised to find out we weren’t alone in the Universe?” You grinned.</p><p>“If it was just us, seems like an awful waste of space,” he snapped; eye bolting open.</p><p>“Okay, Carl. Calm down. You don’t have to defend your position to me.”</p><p>“No, I will not <em> calm down </em>. HEY! Where are you going? You can’t just—”</p><p>“Alien spaceship, Doctor Strange!” You held out your arms with a smile, backing out of the corridor. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”</p><p>“Back-back on EARTH!”</p><p>But it was a moot point as you were already sauntering down the hallway.</p><p>Stephen released a sigh. For fuck’s sake, if you weren’t going to look out for yourself in this deathtrap, he sure would. </p><p>“So what are you running from again?” You looked over your shoulder as he caught up.</p><p>“I told you. I don’t know.”</p><p>“Ah, right. Why are you barefoot then?”</p><p>“I. Don’t. Know.”</p><p>“Doesn’t seem like appropriate footwear…having none.”</p><p>“I didn’t choose this.”</p><p>“Goodness, you are more flustered than normal. Do you need a snack? Or a nap? I’d offer you my shoes but we might have a bit of a size discrepancy.”</p><p>“No!” He spun you around to force eye contact. “I need you to listen to me. Something bad is about to happen. Something terrible. And I need to get you somewhere safe.”</p><p>You tilted your head to the side. “Would you like me to peg you sometime?”</p><p>“WHAT.”</p><p>“Might be more satisfying than the stick up your ass.”</p><p>“Why aren’t you taking this seriously?” He could feel the heat rushing to his face.</p><p>“Again...what are you running from?”</p><p>“I don’t know!” </p><p>Fuck, you were infuriating in literally every possible moment he had with you. He couldn’t even dream up a more pleasant version of you. God, what was wrong with him?</p><p>“Then I don’t believe you,” you hummed, tracing your fingertips along the wall. “Not until you can tell me.”</p><p>“I have never lied to you.”</p><p>“No, you haven’t.”</p><p>Raising your eyebrows, you shrugged and continued to the end of the hallway. Stephen clenched his fists and stomped after you; bare fucking feet and all.</p><p>“How did you get here?” he demanded.</p><p>“I have no clue. Suddenly I was here. And in my wanderings, I stumbled upon you. Guess it’s your lucky day.”</p><p>“Luck has nothing to do with it.”</p><p>“Right, right. You hardly seem like the superstitious type.”</p><p>Stopping at the end of the hallway, Stephen peered over the edge. It was at least a thirty-foot drop and there was nowhere else to go. So it was either fall to certain death or go back where you came from. </p><p>You pointed to a glowing orange button on the wall.</p><p>“Ooo, what do you think this does?”</p><p>Stephen slapped your hand away.</p><p>“Don’t touch that! We have no idea what it does. How old are you anyway?”</p><p>“Well, that’s an impolite question to ask a lady.”</p><p>“Just. Don’t. Touch anything.”</p><p>“What about you?” You brushed your fingertips over his arm.</p><p>With a hard swallow, Stephen shivered. Of fucking course. You would use this as an opportunity to antagonize him. He really did hate himself. Couldn’t even hide it in his subconscious.</p><p>Beaming at him, you smacked the button before he could protest. And, to his great surprise, not only did you <em> not </em> spontaneously combust. But a narrow metal grate raised itself to your level as a bridge.</p><p>You raised your eyebrows.</p><p>“Now...can I walk on that? Or are you going to ask me how much I weigh?”</p><p>“I’m not, I wouldn’t…” Stephen jutted his hand toward the bridge. “Let me go first. If I survive this, you should be just fine.”</p><p>“Suit yourself.” </p><p>Clasping your hands behind your back, you stepped to the side. </p><p>With the utmost caution, Stephen pressed the ball of his foot to the grate. He applied a moderate amount of pressure.</p><p>Not dead. Good start.</p><p>Holding his breath, Stephen stepped forward with the other foot. But the moment the bridge took his full weight, you raced past him to the other side.</p><p>“This thing is clearly made for walking on. Now will you hurry up?”</p><p>“Do you have ANY survival instincts within you whatsoever?!”</p><p>“Well, I’m not the one who came with no shoes.”</p><p>Oh, fuck you. It really didn’t help that this grate was digging into the soles of his feet with every goddamn step. That’s it. You were a menace. Well, he knew that. But you were equally annoying in life or death situations as any other. And <em> that </em> was new information.</p><p>Shit, no.</p><p>This was a dream and his subconscious was extrapolating a characterization of you to create this equally insufferable version. He honestly had no idea what you would be like in a real life situation like this and he was keen on never finding out how accurate this was.</p><p>Since, you know, he was always right.</p><p>When Stephen was finally reunited with you on a smooth surface, he rolled out his shoulders.</p><p>“Finally,” you groaned.</p><p>He opened his mouth to speak. But instead of snapping back at you, Stephen paused; choosing to instead, lean his head back and release an exasperated sigh.</p><p>“I am going to wake up at any moment anyway,” he muttered under his breath.</p><p>“God, I hope so. You’re acting a little out of it.”</p><p>“So it really doesn’t matter what I say to you.”</p><p>“Is this what you say to yourself to get away with being the world’s biggest jackass? Treat everything like it’s some grand simula—”</p><p>What the fuck.</p><p>He was kissing you. Palms to the sides of your face and lips to lips and now, OH, tongue to tongue kissing you. And apparently, you were kissing him back.</p><p>“We should, um…” You pointed over your shoulder. “We should see what’s behind that door. Do you know what’s behind that door?”</p><p>Stephen stared at you. Yup, he really fucking hated himself.</p><p>“I—” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know.”</p><p>“Well aren’t you just a fountain of information today. If only your patients knew how out of the loop you are.”</p><p>“This isn’t brain surgery.” Stephen scowled. “Though I’d be happy to give you a lobotomy right about now.”</p><p>“Not brain surgery.” You grinned. “Just rocket science.”</p><p>Turning the steel (at least, it looked like steel) handle, you shoved your hip against the door to nudge it open. Stephen strutted after you. But he paused a few steps into the cavernous room.</p><p>Standing next to you, he held his breath at the sight of the cosmos through a massive floor-to-ceiling window. You were in, what appeared to be, a viewing room. It was easily the size of the hospital atrium, perhaps bigger. You had a crystal clear view of stars that littered the sky.</p><p>“I’ve never been in here before,” he whispered.</p><p>“So I probably shouldn’t ask if you come here often.”</p><p>With a hard swallow, you took his hand in yours and looked over.</p><p>“What are you running from?” </p><p>“I told you, I don’t kn—”</p><p>“The rightful owners? Did you steal this ship?”</p><p>“No. This isn’t even real.”</p><p>“But what are you running from, Stephen? Why are we here?”</p><p>Turning you to face him, Stephen looked into your eyes and drew in a breath.</p><p>“We have to go. It’s not safe here,” he pleaded.</p><p>“Then tell me why.”</p><p>“I don’t why. I just know it isn’t!” He shook your shoulders. “You have to listen to me.”</p><p>“Tell me what you’re running from. What are you running from?”</p><p>“Will you <em> stop </em> asking me that?”</p><p>“Not until you can answer it.”</p><p>God, you were calm. You were so fucking calm and it was driving him up the goddamn wall. Why were you so calm? Could you not <em> feel </em> it? You could fucking feel everything. How could not feel what he was feeling? How could you not feel it?</p><p>“It’s not important,” he stammered. “It doesn’t even matter. What I need, I need to get you somewhere safe. Because I can’t let anything else happen to you. I can’t let anything else happen to you.”</p><p>“What’s happened to me…” But your voice trailed off as you slowly glanced down at your feet. With wide eyes, you looked back at him. “There’s water in my shoes.”</p><p>“What?” Stephen’s gaze darted downward.</p><p>But by the time he looked back at you, you were soaking wet and coughing up water.</p><p>“Stephen!” you gurgled, placing your palm to your chest. “What the FUCK are you running from?”</p><p>His horrified face was the last thing you saw before your eyes bolted wide open. Jerking upright in your hospital bed, you glanced around the room to recalibrate your senses.</p><p>Sure, your dreams have been different since the accident. You saw Jacob on more than one occasion. You had one where Clea was a bear and one where she was a human. You even had one where it was Stephen who damaged his hands instead of Isaac.</p><p>But this one...this had to be the strangest of them yet.</p><p>Collapsing back to the pillow, you let out a deep sigh. That was the last time you watched <em> Contact </em> right before bed. You were not accustomed to wandering around an empty alien spaceship. </p><p>Not in your non-waking hours, at least.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0044"><h2>44. The Cross of the Paradox</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Your recovery, like you, was a hot mess. Aside from the peonies that continued to flood your room, most of the hospital staff couldn’t even recognize you anymore.</p><p>Most of them.</p><p>Nurses cringed before taking your vitals. Your physical therapists’ facial muscles were sore from faking smiles. This was possibly the first time in your life that people dreaded being in your presence.</p><p>And yet, you didn’t notice. Well, even if you did, you couldn’t be sure you would care.</p><p>So when Stephen returned to his office one evening, the last thing he expected to see was you lying on the couch across from Billy’s desk. By the time he opened the door, you were already reaching for your crutches on the floor.</p><p>“What are you doing here?” you snapped. </p><p>“Um, I think that’s my line.”</p><p>“You should have left hours ago.”</p><p>“No...I—”</p><p>“I don’t care. I didn’t touch your precious case files. I just came here for some goddamn peace and quiet.”</p><p>Stephen furrowed his brow as you struggled to prop yourself upright. Wait, was he allowed to say you were struggling? No, you were definitely struggling. Oh shit. That means he should probably—</p><p>“DON’T. Think about it,” you barked.</p><p>Too late.</p><p>“I don’t need your...your fucking help.” </p><p>You managed to scoot to the edge of the couch. Fuck, you were weak. You had never been this weak in your life. </p><p>“How did you even get up here on your own?” Stephen looked you up and down.</p><p>“Sprinting.”</p><p>You positioned your crutches to take your weight when you stood up. But no matter how. many. times you tried to take off, you couldn’t get your ass off that damn couch. </p><p>If only you could bend your knee. But, then again, you wouldn’t be in this predicament if that were the case. </p><p>“Fuck.”</p><p>Stephen rubbed the back of his neck. “Would you like me to—”</p><p>“Is your memory that bad? I just said that I—”</p><p>You were on your feet. Well, foot. And crutches.</p><p>“I told you, I didn’t need your help!” you protested.</p><p>“Yeah, and I don’t need you being a dick to me in my own office.”</p><p>You could feel the heat of his breath on your neck as you contemplated punching him in the goddamn throat.</p><p>“Fine,” you spat, ignoring his hand steadying you on your waist. “As long as you did it to shut me up. And NOT because you feel bad for me.”</p><p>“Oh, I pity you. But not because you’re physically incapacitated.”</p><p>“God, you are such a fucking asshole.”</p><p>“And it’s apparently rubbing off.”</p><p>“What are you talking about?”</p><p>“This.” He gestured you up and down. “Are you trying to take over as hospital douchebag? Because I’m delighted to report that the position has already been filled.”</p><p>“What? You’re the one who’s a complete dick.”</p><p>“The nurses weren’t even this terrified when <em> I </em> was admitted.”</p><p>“Terrified? I’m not terrifying. Look at me. I’m-I...I need to sit down.”</p><p>Breath catching in your throat, you leaned back to reunite with the sofa. Stephen guided your descent; only because you let him. Your death glare made sure he knew that.</p><p>When you were seated, Stephen sat next to you. He clasped his hands together, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.</p><p>“Do you…” He cleared his throat. “Want to talk about it?”</p><p>“Talk about what?”</p><p>“The fact that you’re giving me a run for my—”</p><p>“You have a case, don’t you? That’s why you’re here so late.”</p><p>“Um, yeah.”</p><p>“The kid with Moyamoya,” you sighed. “Shit, I thought they gave that to Nick.”</p><p>“They did. I took it, the case, before he could fuck shit up.”</p><p>“Pfft. Show off.” You rolled your eyes. “You know you didn’t have to—”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>You paused, taking in the sight of his face. There was something different about him. Why did he feel so different? You couldn’t quite place your finger on it.</p><p>You buried your face in your hands and leaned forward, drawing in a deep inhale as if it could cleanse the relentless ache in the back of your lungs.</p><p>“Am I really getting that bad?” you mumbled.</p><p>“They’ve asked to borrow Billy on multiple occasions.”</p><p>“I...I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”</p><p>“I’ve got a starting list. But I don’t think it covers what you’re referring to.”</p><p>“Shut up, asshole.” You leaned back and crossed your arms. “I don’t want to talk about it.”</p><p>Stephen opened his mouth to speak. But you held up a finger and narrowed your eyes.</p><p>“I swear to God, if I hear ‘just give it time’ one <em> more </em> time, I will slap a bitch. Something is not right. And that’s all I’ll say on the matter.”</p><p>“I...wasn’t going to say that.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“I was going to ask if you’ve seen any other specialists?”</p><p>“I sent my charts over to some contacts at Hopkins. But it’s all the same. I should be farther along in my recovery. They can’t see what’s causing my discomfort. Give it time, rehab, the works.”</p><p>“I wasn’t, um…” Stephen glanced down and swallowed firmly. “Have you seen someone who isn’t a surgeon?”</p><p>“Have I seen...What? Who would I…I don’t understand.”</p><p>“I mean, someone who could help you identify, um...alternative sources to your symptoms.”</p><p>As if you weren’t already in a sour mood. This fucking prick.</p><p>“You think I’m making this all up, don’t you? Is that what you’re telling me?”</p><p>He raised his eyebrows. “No, that’s not what I said.”</p><p>“I don’t need to see a psychiatrist, Strange. There is something <em> wrong </em> with my fucking knee; not my mind. They just haven’t properly diagnosed it yet.”</p><p>“It could still help your recovery process until they do.”</p><p>“This isn’t just in my goddamn head. I <em> know </em> what that looks like when you’re just looking for a reason to be broken. And that’s not what I’m fucking doing!”</p><p>“Again, I didn’t say you were. I just think—”</p><p>“I don’t care what you think, you arrogant, sexist dick. Contrary to your own belief, you aren’t God’s gift to medicine and you don’t know everything. I’m not crazy. Now help me get up. I need to get back so I can look at apartments.”</p><p>Under normal circumstances, he would bicker with you. He would argue. He would prod and inquire about your living situation. But having never experienced you in such an insufferable state, Stephen glared at you.</p><p>He glared at you with a god’s honest frustration that you had never seen on his face.</p><p>“What the fuck is your goddamn problem?” he snapped.</p><p>“Other than the fact that I am constantly in pain, can’t stand for longer than a few minutes at a time, and you’re accusing me of being an attention-seeking freak whose suffering is all in my head? I’ve been living on hospital food for God knows how long. It sucks.”</p><p>Well, now he was ready to fucking slap you. </p><p>“You love to spin a good victim story, don’t you?” he scoffed. “I know you’re angry at the world and you got a shit hand. But you need to back the fuck off. I’m trying to help you.”</p><p>“Oh, stop it, you drama queen. Since when did you get so sensitive?”</p><p>Fuck, why did this conversation feel so familiar to him? Why did this conversation feel so familiar? He couldn’t quite place his finger on it.</p><p>“<em> I’m </em> the one who’s sensitive?” Stephen pointed to himself. “You are putting words in my mouth then getting mad at me for things I haven’t even said.”</p><p>“And you are overreacting to everything I <em> am </em> saying. I don’t need to have the renowned intellect of Stephen Strange to deduce what you’re really thinking. And right now, you want me to get the fuck out of your office so you can obsess about your procedure like the perfect Boy Scout you are. Even if you are a self absorbed jackass.”</p><p>“Oh, fuck you! At least I know how miserable I am and I don’t hide behind rainbows and glitter to distract the world from how empty I am on the inside.”</p><p>“The glitter is not for ME because I’m actually capable of thinking of anyone but myself!”</p><p>In reply, Stephen helped you to your feet.</p><p>No, foot. You still couldn’t bear weight on the other.</p><p>He could see the tenseness of your muscles as you clenched your jaw and hobbled away from him on your crutches. As you paused at the door for respite, he could only assume it took you an hour to get to the elevator, down the hallway, and into the neurology suite. </p><p>When he heard the elevator ding from the hallway, he stomped into his office and slammed the door. </p><p>“Fuck!”</p><p>Stephen slumped in his chair with clenched fists. And instead of doing, well, exactly what you said he was going to do, all he could think about was why the fuck did that conversation feel so familiar to him?</p><p>In the elevator, you pressed your back to the wall and swallowed the growing lump in your throat. You really shouldn’t have tried to help him with the Moyamoya case.</p><p>He was always too good for your help anyway.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Not dead :D I have an existential crisis with my writing on a near daily basis at this point. So if you can go easy on me, I'd greatly appreciate it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0045"><h2>45. Divine Intervention</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks all for your patience! Shorter chapter. But we're getting there :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Not good enough.” Stephen tossed a case file on Billy’s desk. </p><p>Muttering under his breath, Billy leaned back and glared at him. He could have sworn his hair was getting grayer by the second. At what point was he supposed to start looking for, well, other employment opportunities? </p><p>“It’s been two months and you haven’t taken a single case. For the sake of your job, and more importantly, mine, take it.”</p><p>He shoved the file across the desk.</p><p>Stephen put his hands on his hips and scoffed. </p><p>“There are about two dozen other people who are qualified to resect a hemangioblastoma. Even one like this. Not worth my time.”</p><p>“You are going to get us both fired. Will you just split someone’s skull open for Christ’s sake?!”</p><p>“Why? Are you volunteering? Just send it to West.”</p><p>“Nick can’t take any more cases.”</p><p>“What?” Stephen snorted. “Of course he can. If he can waste time in the ER, he can—”</p><p>“He’s working part time in Peds to help out the new guy.”</p><p>“Oh? Harvard Nick?”</p><p>“What did you just call him?”</p><p>“West went to Cooper so it’s an appropriate distinction.”</p><p>“Except for the fact that they have entirely different last names!” Billy released an exasperated sigh. “And you don’t even call Nick ‘Nick’.”</p><p>“Which Nick? The one who went to Harvard Medical School or the one who went to the 123rd best medical school in the country located in New Jersey? See, this when an identifier would be useful.”</p><p>Billy blinked firmly exactly three times before taking a deep breath.</p><p> “You know you could just go see her.”</p><p>“Who?”</p><p>“Stephen, I fucking swear to God.”</p><p>Billy shot up from his desk and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. As he threw it on, Stephen furrowed his brow.</p><p>“Where are you going?”</p><p>“Out.”</p><p>“I thought your visitor was meeting you here for lunch.”</p><p>“Think some fresh air would be good. For you.”</p><p>“For me?”</p><p>“Yes. So I don’t punch you in the face. I’m going to Ortho.”</p><p>Stephen narrowed his eyes. “Are you two…”</p><p>“What, Stephen? Are we what?”</p><p>“Sleeping together?” He cocked a brow.</p><p>Shaking his head, Billy stomped to the door. Stephen took a step forward and laughed. </p><p>“What? It’s a legitimate question.”</p><p>“No! It’s not. You know that I have been in a committed partnership for the past five years.”</p><p>“Doesn’t mean—”</p><p>“You know what? Fuck you. Not all of us run away from our issues by literally burying ourselves in other people.”</p><p>“Oh, come on.” Stephen rolled his eyes. </p><p>“It’s not hard to tell how you’ve been spending your time. Do you bother learning their names? Or do you just ask if you can call them—”</p><p>“STOP.”</p><p>Stephen bore his eyes into Billy. Your name hung in the air as the unspoken word between them. </p><p>Rubbing his palms together, Billy huffed an exhale.</p><p>“No, that’s right. You probably use a numbered system. If you’re even keeping track at this point.” He threw the door open. “I’m going to help out Peds until they get better staffed.”</p><p>“Why are you helping them? They already have West. If you classify that as help.”</p><p>“She was doing the job of, like five people or some shit. No fucking clue how. But they need me more than you do.”</p><p>“God, now you’re just being sensitive.”</p><p>“Let me know when you’ve got a fucking case. Or if you get fired and I need to look for employment elsewhere.”</p><p>Billy slammed the door behind him. </p><p>“He’ll get over it,” Stephen muttered, throwing his back to lie down across the couch.</p><p>Someone needed to do something about these ceiling tiles. They were nothing short of disgusting. How long has it been since anyone’s cleaned these?</p><p>In the past two months, you were discharged, in physical therapy, and living...well, he was going to find that out today. Except Billy decided to take the conversation out of eavesdropping distance.</p><p>Stephen rolled his eyes and groaned. </p><p>Don’t judge. It was the only form of entertainment in this office suite since Billy apparently lost his ability to procure a decent fucking case. What else was he supposed to do? Help out Peds? The ER?</p><p>Laughable.</p><p>If he wasn’t going to dance with the hemangioblastoma, there was no fucking way he was stepping on either of those floors. He shuddered. No need to go through the graveyard of...what would you call it? Failed relationships past? Not that you and he ever dated. Just that you had a relationship outside of the strictly professional context and, fuck.</p><p>Stephen dragged his hands down his face. </p><p>This is why he never made friends.</p><p>Swinging his legs over the edge of the couch, Stephen propped himself upright. He raised an eyebrow at the case file eyeing him from Billy’s desk. He swears he could feel that thing <em> watching </em> him.</p><p>He rose to his feet, grumbling under his breath the whole five steps to the desk. Stephen let out a long whistle as he slid the file across the desktop and promptly into the trash.</p><p>Honestly, there was no use wasting his time with this nonsense any longer. But coffee? Yeah, sure. He could justify that.</p><p>Stephen strutted to his office and reached out to swipe your mu—no, <em> his </em> mug—from his desk. But just as his fingertips grazed the edge, the ceramic escaped his grasp.</p><p>He lunged forward. But even his legendary dexterity wasn’t enough to rescue the mug from its predestined fate.</p><p>“Shit, shit, shit!”</p><p>In a matter of seconds, the mug splintered across the floor in pieces. Stephen drew in a breath, pursing his lips as the word ‘OKAYEST’ stared back at him with a vengeance. </p><p>If he were the sentimental type—which, thank fuck he wasn’t—this would bother him. It would bother him more than the distinct tick of his jaw and growing lump in his throat. </p><p>But, having learned long ago that attachment was a waste of time, he exited his office, strode through the rest of the neurology suite, and slammed the door just like Billy did moments before.</p><p>Now...what the fuck was he doing again?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0046"><h2>46. Smoke and Fucking Magic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>At your favorite cafe within walking distance of the hospital, Isaac leaned back in his seat and took a sip of his coffee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You finally exhaled when the cup reunited with the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe, you really don’t have to be that nervous,” he laughed. “I can drink a hot beverage without being a danger to myself or to others.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. I still worry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You always worry. It’s probably pretty high up there in your top ten skills.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Setting your tea aside, you drew in a breath. You ignored the instant concern that tore across his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t,” he whispered. “We already discu—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But Isaac, this could be my shot. This could finally do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t keep getting hacked to pieces in hope that some miracles or smoke and fuckin’ magic is going to save us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But this isn’t magic. This is medicine. I really believe tha—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And how far has belief gotten either of us?” He gestured to you with a quiver of his fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sigh, you sunk down in your chair and nodded. Isaac leaned over the table to place his hand on yours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If this is what you want, I’ll support you,” he offered. “I just don’t want you to get caught up in the chase of trying to be whole again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The rate of success isn’t high anyway. I don’t know if I even trust this guy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And don’t forget, I’ve got you. No matter what.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And for the first time in a long time, you believed him. A gentle smile tugged at the corner of your lips as your muscles relaxed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you again for taking us in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Again, you can stop thanking me. I need your help too.” He grinned and raised his eyebrows. “And honestly, who else were you going to call? Your parents?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very funny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can only imagine how that conversation would have gone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except you didn’t have to. You did make the mistake of calling your parents in your final days at the hospital. But your mother was insistent on asking more questions over providing answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom, I don’t know anything about the side effects of your medications. I’m a surgeon, not a psychiatrist. Can’t you ask your doctor about this?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You pinched the bridge of your nose and groaned. This conversation went exactly as you expected it to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promise I don’t need that much help,” you pleaded. “I just, I can’t stand for very long. So I just need someone who can, I don’t know, answer the door when the delivery guy gets there? Just for the first few days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two days later, you found yourself standing at Isaac’s doorstep. And when you saw his face, you weren’t sure if you should run inside or run away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that you could physically do either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...I’m so sorry. But I had nowhere else to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You relinquished your weight to him as he wrapped his arms around you. He kissed your temple and propped you upright.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, hey,” he cooed. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I got you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And from one broken soul to another, you felt like you were home again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Later that week, you stopped by the Tower. Tony hadn’t returned any of your calls or texts; the last of which said you were coming over to collect Clea and your belongings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when you arrived, you were greeted with an eager pup, a few pre-packed boxes, and a couple of members of the security team who were ready to take them wherever you needed them to go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, at least he wasn’t dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you picked at the cardboard sleeve around your cup of tea—made of 100% recycled materials, mind you—you returned your gaze to Isaac and smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I learned to play guitar, we could be a traveling duo. No! Trio. We could teach Clea how to yodel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Isaac only shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” you sighed. “I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S’okay. I know...No, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to bring you down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You miss it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pursing your lips, you gave him a nod. Isaac retracted his hand and leaned back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was part of my identity. And now what? I pretty much lost my entire career over the past five years. Not that, no. Not that I regret...you know. But I just, I feel like I have no purpose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand.” You swallowed, carefully weighing your next words on your tongue. “But I think we can all have multiple purposes across our lives. And I know...well, I know that one of my is to—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But before you could finish the sentence to change your fate, your eyes widened upon seeing Stephen pacing back and forth just outside the cafe window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Strange?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I don’t follow.” Isaac raised an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s Stephen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” He turned around and rolled his eyes before looking back at you. “This is why I didn’t want to come by your work. What the fuck does he want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, probably just a cup of coff—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen’s gaze locked with yours. Oh, shit. Was he supposed to run inside or run away? He didn’t really want to do either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He started saying, well, something. You certainly couldn’t hear him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shrugging, you pointed to your ear and mouthed ‘I can’t hear you’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen’s eyes darted between you and Isaac’s backside. He shook his head and gestured for you to come outside. But his eyes widened when you leaned forward and waved your hand to beckon him in...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a diamond on your ring finger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snapping his jaw shut, Stephen swallowed. He promptly turned around and started marching back to the hospital.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck is he doing?” you whined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isaac reached for your wrist just as you shot up from your seat. Which, in fairness to the musician, was infinitely faster than he’d seen you move since your accident. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe, what are—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just give me a minute.” You limped right past him and to the sidewalk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isaac slumped back and raised his hands in defeat. But hey, at least your physical therapy was finally paying off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor Strange! Get back here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Stephen pressed forward; gait far out pacing yours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pausing to catch your breath, you pressed your hands to your thighs and leaned forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor Stra—STEPHEN!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He froze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands curled into fists before spinning around and shrugging.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“WHAT?” he shouted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You, once again, gestured for him to come closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolling his eyes, Stephen obliged. But only because he wasn’t interested in screaming this conversation for the entire street to hear. You should know that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he was within range of using his ‘indoor voice’ (as you more-than-occasionally reminded him of), he scowled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shoved you out of the way of oncoming foot traffic because God knows your glitter and fairy dust wouldn’t save you from getting mowed down by power walking businessmen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean ‘what’?” You shook your head. “You’re the one who was talking to me. What were you trying to say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t trying to say anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the—you just told me to come outside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I didn’t want an audience.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An audience for nothing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen clenched his teeth and sighed, “You’re mobile.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Barely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When are you coming back? Your department is a disaster since you left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You left a mess and they apparently don’t know how to handle themselves. And...and, well, they need you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes softened. “I-I don’t think I’ll be able to come back. I’m not strong enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you talking about? Your hands are fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t stand for more than thirty minutes. And that’s on a good day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then you get stronger. Keep up with PT and—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stephen. I can’t dance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does that have to do with anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I can’t dance, I’m not coming back to work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t operate...if you can’t dance. That doesn’t make any sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe not to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen knit his brows together. Well, he couldn’t disagree with you on that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a hard swallow, you shook your head. “I am so sor—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re engaged.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Well, not yet. I don’t know. He asked and I haven’t...I’m not sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t that something you should be kinda certain of?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” you groaned, dismissing the mockery in his voice. “Hence why I’m taking time to sit with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmmmkay.” He shrugged and patted your shoulder. “Good luck with that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as Stephen was about to unite with the flow of pedestrians, you yanked him back to the side of the building. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What exactly are you trying to say, jackass?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See? This is exactly why you need to get back to work. You got mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am not mean!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are to. By the way, will you marry me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Of course not! If I wanted to serve a life sentence in prison, I’d go commit murder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you didn’t have to sit with that. You just knew.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could run off on you again, you tightened your grip around his wrist. You were apparently still holding onto it. Which was news to one of you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stephen, are we...are we good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were mad at me? Didn’t notice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m serious!” You tugged on him, pulling him closer. “I pushed a lot of people away in the past few months. And I was terrible to you. I said awful things and I am so sor—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, okay. Good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But if you ever try taking my place as hospital douchebag again, I won’t hold back on reminding you how I so eloquently earned the title.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He placed his hand over yours, corner of his lip upturned in a smirk. It was the first genuine one in the past two months. He missed feeling satisfied with himself. Wouldn’t dare go so long without it again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You brought your palm to the side of his face to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to get back—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To your fiancé.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, stop.” You leaned back and rolled your eyes, breaking the invisible thread wrapped around the both of you. “But can I call you later to get your opinion on something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never want my opinion. Just pro bono surgery hours. You only want me for my body...And time...And exceptional fine motor skills.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh dear God. Nevermind then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Call.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tentatively, your eyes met his. “You mean that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can tell when a woman needs a competent opinion. Now get back or your fiancé is going to think you’ve run off with me to join Mensa. Which to him, anybody with an IQ over 100 qualifies for. So…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, fuck off! You are such an asshole.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe. But at least I’m not your husband.” He shuddered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you rolled your eyes, Stephen gave your hand one quick squeeze before darting down the sidewalk. He already knew exactly how he would resect the hemangioblastoma.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After he cleaned up the pieces of ceramic off his office floor, of course.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Feel free to indulge me and tell me if you're Team Stephen or Team Tony (bonus cookies if you share why).</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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